The Darkness Has Won
by Iwillsingyoulullabys
Summary: What would happen if Harry Potter had not woken up from his encounter with Lord Voldemort in the Final Battle? What plans does LV have for his child with Hermione Granger, for they are far more sinister than just having an heir...Please review xx
1. I dreamed a dream in time gone by

The pain was too much to bear. Not even the shaking, but comforting, warm hand on her shoulder could stop the lump rising in the back of her throat, or clear her vision that was now being marred in tears.

'Harry!' She screamed. 'Harry!'

Her best friend lay in the arms of their old Game Keeper and Professor of Care Of Magical Creatures. His hair was as messy as ever and his glasses lay crooked on his nose, in danger of slipping off, but his trademark green eyes were closed. Oh how she would do anything to see those eyes flicker back open. He looked so small in the half-giant hands, almost as if he could be sleeping. How vulnerable he looked.

'Ha-Harry'. The boy beside her gave a strangled cry.

She had never seen him cry before, not even when he'd been in a lot of pain, and he looked more shocked than anything else when his brother, Fred, had died. Now, however, tears poured freely down his face.

She could hardly tear her eyes away from the sleeping body. He had to be sleeping. He just had to.

'Hermione?'

'Hmm?' She looked up from the book that she was reading.

'Hermione.' Harry's hands shifted awkwardly in his pockets. 'Hermione, I'm scared.'

How scared had he been when he'd faced death again, and this time, actually felt the blow? She began to sob and huddled into her companions shoulder. But when she heard shrieking, she pulled away.

Neville Longbottom stood with his head on fire. The Sorting Hat had been crammed onto his head and was now burning spectacularly, with the shrieks of pain coming from Neville. Foolishly, she looked towards where her best friend lay, this was where he would come in and save the day. He always did. He always had to.

'Leave him alone.' Ron roared beside her. Still with a protective arm around her, he faced Lord Voldemort without fear, just as Harry used to do.

The scarlet eyes glistened at Ron. 'Make me.'

Ron broke out into a near hysterical smile, and she whimpered as he fished around for his wand. But before he could do anything about it, his mother and father were standing in front of him, their backs to Lord Voldemort as they implored their youngest son to stay out of his way. But Ron only angrily pushed them aside.

'I know you.' The older main said suddenly, gliding towards them all.

Terrified, she looked over to where Neville lay unconscious on the floor. The hat wasn't burning anymore, but she couldn't be sure if he was breathing.

By the time she forced herself to look up and away, he was standing in front of them and Arthur and Molly were standing protectively either side of the weeping Ginny.

Ron stared squarely at him in the face, and said nothing. When Lord Voldemort glanced down at her, she gave a small cry, causing him to smile. Never before had they been so close, it was only at Godric's Hollow had she ever glimpsed the man she probably hated most in the world.

'And I recognize you too.' He said softly, looking her up and down.

Ron frowned and spoke up loudly. 'I am Ronald Billius Weasley, best friend to Harry Potter and fighter against the dark arts and the pureblood ideal.'

From behind them, Molly squeaked anxiously.

'A Weasley, did you say?' Voldemort smirked, twisting his wand around his long fingers, while she looked on in terror at what he might do. 'And yet, you come from a long line of pureblood families.'

Ron's ears grew red and Arthur Weasley spoke up sharply. 'A coincidence only. Any blood group is welcome into our family.' He stole a glance at her.

'But you are all still purebloods. We would be advancing you in this new society. Shouldn't you all be fighting with us instead of against us?'

'Not when you're in love with a Muggleborn.'

Voldemort's eyes flickered back quickly to her, as she quickly looked down and huddled against Ron, torn between the need to blush or to cry. His grip strengthened on her small shoulders.

'Miss Hermione Granger.' Voldemort said quietly. 'We meet at last then. You have been so very evasive, and yet I have been wanting to talk with you for a long time. Now, let me guess, you're Harry Potter's best friend too?'

Biting her lip, she nodded fiercely.

'Anything more?'

She flinched slightly at that, some of the Death Eaters let out a little whoop of disrespect. Ron's grip stiffened slightly. She knew full well that he had often been suspicious about something going on between the two of them, even though they hadn't-

Well, not really.

Clearing her throat, far louder than she'd meant to, she said. 'There was never anything like that.'

Voldemort scoffed, and she was reminded of Draco Malfoy. 'But something happened. You cannot lie to me I could see inside that idiot boys head.'

Yes. Something did happen. But it was only once and it was only a kiss. A very long kiss. They'd been just lying there; weeks after Ron had gone and left them. He was exhausted, and she was upset. He'd had his arms wrapped around her, cradling her, and when she'd looked up they were only noses apart. And then one of them kissed the other and the other kissed them back. They'd kissed for a long time, and then some more, but it was nothing. They'd just been so desperate for physical contact and some form of affection. When they'd stopped kissing, she'd fallen asleep in his arms and no more was ever said about it again.

A small sob gave way for tears.

An evil grin spread onto Voldemort's thin mouth. 'Would you like to say goodbye to him?'

His tone was polite, but she could see the threat in his voice. 'Would you like to kiss his filthy half blood lips, goodbye?'

She could feel herself trembling, but somehow the lips of Harry James Potter and the memory of his sparkling emerald green eyes gave her courage. 'I don't need to prove my allegiance to Harry.' She said, far more bravely than she'd felt all day.

Voldemort struck as suddenly as a snake as he grabbed her by the neck of her robes. With a yelp, the ready to pounce Ron was pushed out of the way by an invisible curse, caused seemingly by Voldemort's own hand.

She bit back a whimper as Voldemort's red crimson eyes bored violently into hers. It was only when she heard his voice whispering threats in her head did she begin to scream, as loud as she could as if it would drown out his high pitched cackle and the cries of Harry Potter as he died.

'Put her down you bastard!' Ron swore violently, flinging himself at the barrier. 'Stop hurting her.' Blood began to spill out of his mouth and he yelled in shock as he clung onto his head as if in sudden and severe pain.

The noises stopped, but Voldemort still held onto her, looking curiously as she cried.

'I value loyalty in my Death Eaters.' He said thoughtfully. He could not see. Ply, glaring at someone who she could not see. Ply, glaring at someone who she could not see. 'All you need to do, dearie.' A few Death Eaters chuckled at his mocking tone. 'Is to swear your allegiance to me.'

Vehemently, she shook her head, even allowing herself to smile a little daringly. Harry's eyes were still in her mind, smiling at her to carry on.

Voldemort snarled. 'Do it. Or he gets it.'

All at once, Death Eaters were surrounding Ron. Still holding onto her with a firm grip, Voldemort turned to the crowds of people before him, shaking in fear and terror. 'All of you will be required to do this.' His voice rang and travelled through the masses. 'Anyone who refuses, will be killed.'

Arthur Weasley stepped bravely forwards. Never before had she seen him look so angry. There was a fire in his eyes that she would never have imagined could be there. It was then at that moment that she learned why he had been sorted as a Gryffindor.

'And what if I still refuse?' He boomed loudly over the hush of silence in the two crowds. 'There are still some of us who value our pride and our dignity as opposed to our mortal life.' He stared in disgust at the unprotected Lucius Malfoy.

'Then I'll kill your whole family.' Voldemort replied simply.

Arthur Weasley turned white as he stepped back in front of his family, Molly Weasley placed a protective arm on her husband as she held tightly onto her still weeping daughter.

'Swear it.' Voldemort hissed as he turned his attention back to her. His face was aggressively in hers, and all she could think about was why, despite being pressed very tightly against his chest, could she not feel a heartbeat?

'Don't Hermione!' Ron yelled from behind the mass of Death Eaters who were restraining him down onto his knees. Bellatrix Lestrange smiled wickedly at her as she pressed her long silver knife against his throat. 'I would rather die!'

Sensing her hesitance, Voldemort pulled her around to face the still Neville on the floor. The hat caught up in flames again, and the boy woke up screaming.

She began to cry again. 'P-please don't h-hurt Ne-Neville. He-he hasn't d-done anything wr-wrong.'

The flames only continued to burn brighter and faster. And while she began to gag at the smell of burning flesh, Voldemort only began to sniff it in appreciatively and licked his thin lips.

But as she began to form her lips over those treacherous words, Neville disappeared with a small pop and a few seconds later so did the now extinguished Sorting Hat.

Voldemort screamed with rage as he flung her to the floor and rushed over to the place where his victim had been lying just seconds before.

'Hurry!' yelled Ron.

She looked up just in time to see Arthur Weasley quickly grab all of his family's hands and disapparate with a small pop. Other people began to follow suit, and soon she and Ron were the only ones left, but as he dived for her where she lay, he was kicked to the floor and stood on by none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

'What has happened?' He demanded, one hand around the boy's throat, a foot pressed hard onto his chest.

Ron crowed triumphantly. 'I removed the barrier that prevented people from disapparating from Hogwarts. For only about ten seconds, and yet it worked well enough to get people out of here.'

Voldemort spat in his face, but Ron could only grin. Glowering at Lucius Malfoy he said coldly. 'Is it, true?'

Lucius Malfoy hesitated, licking his lips anxiously. 'It is, My Lord. But the spell has stopped now. Nobody is getting in. And nobody is getting out. We have made enchantments to prevent this from happening again, or for allowing any unwanted visitors inside here in this bubble.'

Voldemort turned to the pair, his eyes gleaming. When he swooped down to Ron, she suppressed a small cry, but was extremely surprised when he stopped last minute and offered him his hand to help him up.

Ron glanced at his suspiciously, but took it nonetheless and was pulled none too gently onto his feet. And then gave him back his wand; for her he did the same thing - except last minute he snapped it into two pieces before pressing them into her palm. Hard.

Ron moved closer towards her, his eyes never leaving Voldemort's, and Voldemort's eyes never leaving his. After a few moments, Voldemort's smile widened.

'You have ten seconds.'

His meaning was very clear. Ten seconds to try and run away to escape all of them. Escape them from a place that nobody could enter or leave from, a place where all the exits were sealed up.

'Hermione, run.' Ron muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his brown eyes still not leaving Voldemort's.

She knew exactly what he was going to try and do. 'No. No, I am not leaving you.'

'You have to, now run.'

'Ten.' Voldemort began his countdown.

'Give me the wand, I can fight.'

'Hermione-'

'Nine.'

'Hermione, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Now run.'

'Eight.'

'You know all of the secret passageways out of here. One of them is bound to work. You're Harry Potter's Best Friend.'

'Seven.'

'Please, please just –'

'Six.'

'Kiss me and run.'

'Ron I-'

'Kiss me.'

And so she did to the point where she wasn't sure whose tears were on her cheeks. His? Or hers?

'Now go.' Ron had gently pushed her apart, away from him. 'Run.'

'Five.'

'I'm not leaving you.'

'Please, don't make me do something that I don't want to do.'

'Ron, please I'

'Imperio.'

And then she was running. Crying as she was forced to run away from him. Deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forrest she ran. Ron had her heading for Hogsmeade, or for the Shrieking Shack, or something. It was only when her legs stopped moving and she stumbled over, did she realise that the Curse had ended. No. No, no, no, no, no. A curse like that could only end so suddenly if -

Ron.

Even in her grief, she managed to regain her senses and back away against the trees to hide from the sudden pounding of footsteps that crunched along the leaves and twigs in the forest.

'Come out; come out, wherever you are?' Came the raspy voice of an old man, whom she could only guess was the Death Eater called Nott. 'Come on, my pretty, we won't hurt you.'

'But the Dark Lord says that-'

'Silence, Fool.' Crabbe Senior was cut off by a blow to his stomach and the silky furious tones of one Lucius Malfoy. 'Miss Granger.' She could picture that smirk of his. 'Please come here, we wish you no harm, at present. There is little point in resisting. The Boy who wouldn't die, has now died. Everyone has left you, left this country even and so there is no getting back into these walls, to save you. If you surrender yourself to us now, your life may even be pleasant here on after.' There was a pause as he licked his lips. She dared to take a glimpse at the three Death Eaters, and Lucius Malfoy lowered his head and sharpened his eyes through the forest trees. 'The Weasley boy is dead, you know.' He added slyly.

She could not help the sharp intake of breath, but luckily she felt that they did not hear her.

'Are you sure that she's even here?' Crabbe grunted sourly.

'Of course.' Nott wheezed. 'Women are so very predictable. Especially little girls. Come on, dearie. Come out, poppet. Come on, sweetheart, and you shall have a sweetie.'

Lucius snorted derisively. 'We're not at the playground now, Nott. Miss Granger, if you do not come here at once, then we shall take you by force. And trust me, that will not be pretty, or a pleasant experience for you to undertake.'

Beneath her torn shirt, her heart began to beat even more wildly against her chest, so loudly she wondered if the creeping men could hear it from her hiding place. They were only metres away. Nott was as she had expected, a small old man, not much bigger than herself. For a moment she foolishly thought that she could easily overtake him, but the way that he confidently and elegantly held his wand suggested that cursing came all too naturally for him. Perhaps in his late fifties, his silvery-grey hair was neatly trimmed into a surprisingly modern hairstyle, and despite the age of his hair, his tanned strong angular face looked as if it belonged on a twenty year olds, and the chocolate brown eyes looked like they belonged more on a five year old than they did on a sadistic Death Eater.

Crabbe Senior on the other hand, was the spitting image of his son that she had known, but somewhat aged. Nonetheless, he still resembled a sack of potatoes.

Somehow managing to creep away from them, she ran up to the castle. She knew where she needed to. The only difficulty was getting there. After screaming in shock at seeing the first few dead bodies laying on the floor looking glassy-eyed up at her, she knew that she had to learn to get used to it, and instead took to jumping over them with her eyes squeezed shut. Finally, she got there.

'I need somewhere to get out of here.' She thought frantically to herself. Her eyes still squeezed shut as she stood outside the great oak doors. But when she opened them, in the doorway stood none other than Lord Voldemort himself, leering down at her.

'Boo.' He said simply.

She screamed again, and hurtled down the corridors, running away to get away from the sounds of their hysterical high-pitched cackles. She now ran to the only place in the world where she could go whenever she was in trouble. Their arms.

They were still warm.

How long she lay there for she did not know. But then a pair of much stronger arms had dragged her by the waist and were now pulling her kicking and screaming and crying away from her two friends. Lord Voldemort, had claimed Hermione Granger for his own.


	2. When hope was high and life worth living

Hermione Granger, was a witch. And not like the witches that she had read in her books either. Witches did not mean that you wore black to cover up your wart-infested green skin, and had a soul the colour black too. No, a witch was a woman who could do magic. Someone exceptional.

She'd always known that something was not quite right with her. But she'd always taken it as something being _wrong_ with her, rather than something incredibly right.

_He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice._

He'd wandered into the normal lives of the Grangers, and turned Hermione's world upside-down. Literally even, as he'd somehow managed to turn around their enormous library so that they stood on the ceiling and the plush purple armchairs were lying above them all. Since he'd twinkled his blue eyes down at her, Hermione knew to trust and follow him, adopting him as the grandfather who she'd never known.

Five years later he was dead.

_And there he was...his face wasn't waxy at all but handsome and full of laughter._

In her third year came the man who taught her that it was sometimes ok to break the rules. Particularly if the person involved was innocent and suffering from a corrupt system. Hermione had even slightly fancied him, she never expected anything and never tried to start anything up, but there had always been a small smile that she'd reserved especially for Sirius Black.

Two years later he was dead.

_A thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. __The only thing he liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning._

_He was tall, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose._

Her two best friends. The only people in the world she would die for without a second thought. Never before had she had such a close bond with another human being.

_There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them._

She smiled. And it was the first time that she had done so in a very long time. Until then she had lain huddled together on the great oak bed, so stiff and frozen it was like she had been petrified all over again. And in a sense it felt like she was. Time had stood still from the moment that they dragged her away from their bodies. She didn't scream. She didn't shriek. She didn't moan. She didn't even cry.

Lucius Malfoy was getting concerned about this. He paced outside the room, waiting for his wife to come out. When Narcissa opened the door, he jumped on her.

'Well?' He demanded.

Narcissa shook her head sorrowfully, her long blonde hair sweeping across her face to hide the premature lines of aging and stress. In her hands she held a small steaming bowl of soup.

'She won't eat.' She told him. 'It's been three days and no matter how long I leave it there she won't touch it. I think that she's trying to starve herself.'

'Does she even know that it's there?'

'Oh yes. I do tell her. I sit by her bed and try to coax her into eating some. It's like talking to Draco when he was a child and when he-'

'Do not compare our son to that filth!'

Narcissa flinched slightly at his tone. She had hoped that the regular pacing outside of the girls room had been concern for her welfare, but now, with regret, she noted that it was concern for his own as he was the one entrusted with keeping her alive until Lord Voldemort came for her again.

'I am sorry, husband.' She said slowly. 'I did not mean to.'

Lucius sighed, placing his grey and drawn face into his weary hands. 'Does she say anything to you at all? Respond in any way?'

'None. She barely even blinks.'

Lucius gave a sharp intake of breath as he grabbed his wife's elbow and pulled her closer to him. 'You don't think that she's run mad, do you?'

Narcissa shook her head. 'She's not mad. She's sad.' She observed softly. 'Her two best friends are dead, as are many others, and she's terrified about what's going to happen next.'

'She should be rejoicing at being still kept left alive!'

Again, Narcissa shook her head firmly. 'No. This girl is not an idiot. She knows that it would be preferable to be dead, than whatever he has planned next for her.'

_They were running. Harry with his glasses slipping over his nose, Ron with his arms and legs flying around at all angles, and Hermione with her thick brown bushy hair flowing out behind her. When, all of a sudden, Harry stopped. Ron crashed into Harry and Hermione crashed into Ron and the three of them fell to the ground, in a sudden giggling mess. _

'_Are you really sure about this, Harry?' The newly friend Hermione asked. _

'_Of course.' Harry crowed energetically, his eleven year old voice still unbroken. 'Trust me. This'll be a good 'un.' _

_Ron grinned too, his voice also still fairly squeaky. 'Come on, Hermione. Don't bail on us now. You're the only one who knows how to do the spell.' _

'_You'd know too if the pair of you had listened to Professor Flitwick in class.' She reprimanded them. _

'_Hermione!' They whined. _

'_All I'm saying, is that-'_

'_Shh!' Harry suddenly cut across her. _

_Sure enough, Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe came strolling arrogantly through the forest. 'Father says that he's going to do whatever he can to get me a new racing broom.' Malfoy said proudly, smugly patting down his sleek blonde hair. 'Even if he has to fire that old coot, Dumbledore, to get my own way for me. And it's not as if it's not really allowed, is it? That Potter's got one.'_

_Harry looked up with glee. _

'_Famous Harry Potter. He thinks that he's so special because he's got a racing broom. When really-'_

'_Descendo.' Hermione quietly whispered._

_With a crash, the magical sticky purple net that Ron and Harry had secured in the trees fell down on top of the Slytherin Trio. While the Slytherin's screamed with terror and disgust at being stuck in the sticky goo, the Gryffindor Trio screamed with laughter as they all ran away from the scene of the crime. _

'_I think that gets the back for arranging that duel, that time.' Ron said happily._

Hermione didn't hear the turn of the handle on her bedroom door. She'd grown so accustomed to ignoring Narcissa, that any smaller sounds hardly ever disrupted her. She only noticed another presence in the room, when there was a large smack across her head.

Ears ringing, Hermione looked up bewildered. But before she'd had time to register who was there, she'd received another one that sent her flying off of the bed and onto the hard stone grey floor.

'You filthy little mudblood.'

Someone spat at Hermione, it landed on her cheek, and she whimpered as she brushed it away with the corner of her sleeve. But as she did so, a kick hit her squarely in the stomach and she doubled over with pain, rolled up on the floor.

_Death Eaters? Death Eaters like to see pain. In a way it reminds them of their own power, their own believed immortality. That's why they go out and torture as much as they do. Lord Voldemort doesn't tell them to go and do it for any profit. It's rewards for good behaviour. They're sick people. Sick people who enjoy watching other people squirm._

And this was why she decided not to scream. Instead, Hermione gritted her teeth and forced her way onto her feet, but with one arm still clutching onto her stomach where a large dark bruise was already starting to form. There were five of them. Five Death Eater's that is. As she felt the blow of the black cane, she knew for sure that one of them was none other than Lucius Malfoy. He saw the recognition in her eyes and pulled back his hood, revealing a very large sneer.

'Will you not scream, mudblood?'

Bravely, Hermione shook her head. She'd suffered worse. She'd felt the searing pain of a reflection of a Basilisk's stare as she was petrified. She'd been hit by the curse that Dolohov had fired at her in the Department of Mysteries. She'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange herself. And she'd felt the pain as two of her loved ones died. She was not going to let some muggle tricks bring her even further down into despair.

When they'd finished with her, they'd left abruptly. Narcissa Malfoy stood waiting in the shadows of the doorway and slipped inside.

The teenager lay broken on the floor, but what Narcissa had feared most had not happened to the girl. She breathed a sigh of relief, more so for herself than Hermione. Nonetheless, she hurried towards her in a panic at the sight of her wounds.

Avery had a thing for knives. And tonight proved no different. Though her clothes still remained on her back, they'd been ripped and were soaked in her scarlet blood. She could not help staring for a moment or two. She'd never seen a muggles blood before. It wasn't like mud at all. It was like her own.

'Oh you poor girl.' Narcissa murmured to Hermione. 'Oh, you poor sweet girl.' Hermione ignored her, even when she began to brush her hair out of her bloodied face.

Narcissa rocked her for a long time, torn between hate for the mudblood, and pity for the young girl.

'Will you kill me?'

It was a small voice, almost like a child's. Pathetically pleading with her.

Narcissa bit her lip, and tried to smile as she spoke in what she hoped would be an encouraging tone. 'Let us see what he wants with you first, hmmmm? If he wanted you gone then you would be by now. You could have a future, Hermione.' The name tasted funny on her tongue. 'You could be so much happier than you were then. Always on the run, always living in fear. I'll protect you here. I promise.'

Hermione shook her head in Narcissa's shoulder.

The older witch grew slightly irritated. 'What belonged there that you could possibly still want now, girl?'

'The life that was worth living.'


	3. I dreamed that love would never die

**bstephens2693 - Thank you for calling my writing amazing! And as for really feeling for Hermione, trust me, you haven't seen anything yet! I hope that I keep up the good work. xx**

**Zombie Reine - I LOVE YOU TOO! I will continue to update this story for you and for Dumbledore 3 3 xx**

**As mad as one can get - Thank you for my Chapter 2 Review, yes I'm worried that Narcissa did come across as a little confusing as she said one thing to Lucius and another to Hermione, but you'll see soon where her true loyalties and ideals lie. Thank you for calling it a Perfect Chapter. xx**

**As mad as one can get, ILoveDrac, B-Mine, bad-princess400, bstephens2693 (oooh, you did two reviews! You amazing person you, keep it up please! xx), magentaskyy, I love you all and thank you for your kind compliments. Chapter 3 is dedicated to all of you. **

_He doesn't feel that way about you. He never has, and he never will. All you well ever be to him is that buck-toothed silly little girl. Do you honestly think that when you both finish school, he will keep in contact with you? He just needs to use you for his homework. They both do. You're not really wanted. They'd only notice that you'd cleared off when they started to feel hungry. You know that, don't you? Who could ever love you? Him, a pureblood wizard. And you, a filthy little mudblood. A-_

Furiously, Hermione tore the green locket off from around her neck, and had to seriously stop herself from flinging it as far away as possible. From in front of her, Harry turned around and stared sternly at her. 'Put it back on, Hermione.'

She hated his patronising tone. But when Ron came and put his arm around her, she put the locket back around her throat again.

_He only did that because without you he wouldn't get fed._

She didn't know where the Horcrux had got these ridiculous ideas from. He was Ron Weasley. He talked with his mouth full. He never did his homework on time and instead got her to do it for him. He knew too much about Quidditch and not enough about Charms. He teased her mercilessly for being a know-it-all. He swore too much. He was too over-protective of Ginny and of herself. He complained a lot. He was scared of spiders. He was too good and too competitive at Wizard Chess. He always came out with really inappropriate jokes at the wrong sort of times.

He was Ron Weasley. He always had time to talk to her, even when he had his mouth full of food. He never did his homework on time and would come and sit by her feet with that gorgeous charming smile of his as he begged her to do it, telling her that he loved her when she did. He knew too much about Quidditch and not enough about Charms so that they could teach other bits about the two subjects. He called her his know-it-all, so that when other people did it, it did not hurt nearly as much. He swore too much to the secret delight of Hermione who was raised in a household where bloody hell was a taboo. He would do anything to protect Ginny and Hermione, even when his help wasn't needed or wanted. He complained about his family and was honest enough to admit any flaws in people, rather than hiding it behind his hands. He was scared of spiders, but willingly, although after much persuasion by Harry, walked into a forest full of giant ones in order to save her. He used his training in Wizard Chess to sacrifice himself for her and Harry. He always came out with really inappropriate jokes at the wrong sort of times. Just trying to diffuse the tension.

She felt herself smiling, though the bruises on her face tried to push her lips down. She'd been here in this room for about a week now, and was now in the right sort of frame of mind to examine it more thoroughly. Contrary to what she originally had thought, she was not in a dungeon. True, the walls were of grey stone, but they were covered in green velvet tapestries and hangings to keep the heat in. The room could even be considered comfortable. It had not occurred to her that she was lucky enough to be sleeping on a proper bed, better than the one that she had been sleeping in for the last year or so in the tent. But as she smiled at her surroundings, she felt herself be physically be pushed back in shock that she had grown accustomed to her new settings. _Are you an idiot, Hermione?_ She screamed at herself in her head. _What are they going to plan to do with you? What are they going to plan to do with you?_ As this thought grow louder and louder in her head, Hermione began to spiral out of control and she ran to the window. Only to discover, when she pulled back the green velvet curtains, that there was none. There was no window in her room. No. Not her room. The room. The room. There was no window in the room. She could not breathe. The door was a heavy oak, and when she ran to it, kicking and screaming, there was no impact made on the door, but instead on her shoulders, which were quickly turning purple, as she threw herself at it. Again and again. Finally, she ran to the great stone walls and scratched at them with her nails until her fingers grew bloody.

_I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe._

A strong pair of arms grabbed her roughly around the waist and pinned her to the floor, on top of his lap. She lay panting against his chest, still struggling to get away.

'Breathe with me.' Lucius Malfoy ordered. 'You are having a panic attack. Breathe with me.'

Reluctantly, she began to breathe in time with him. Hardly believing that she was doing something in sync with a Death Eater. At this she began to scream and to cry even louder, thrashing against his strong arms.

'What is it?' He demanded. 'What's the matter?'

'He's dead'.

**So. Is Lucius a good guy, or a bad guy? Because at the moment, I don't really know. And as it could go either of two ways, I would like you wonderful guys and gals to tell me! And give reasons too please! See the thing is, I really don't like Lucius Malfoy. But I LOVE Jason Issacs. And I just can't hurt him. He's too much of a babe for me. 3 3 **

**P.S: - You will all be meeting The Dark Lord very shortly...xx**


	4. I dreamed that God would be forgiving

**I feel like I've just been writing for a deadline, which is why I have taken my time with this chapter in order to try and make it more like the first one. If you don't like the sad things, don't read it. Ta xx**

**Caro09 thank you very much!**

**As mad as one can get thank you for your input on the character of Lucius Malfoy! You will see more about him and into his head in this chapter, I hope. **

**ILoveDrac don't worry, I will most certainly not be turning this into a Lucius Malfoy/Hermione fic! The same goes for Lord Voldemort/Hermione and Severus Snape/Hermione. Her heart is very much with Ron still!**

**Zombie Reine haha I do not mean to taunt people with my Chapter shortness, I've just been writing Chapters 2 and 3 in half an hour, which is why I am taking my time with this one!**

**Sweet-tang-honney thank you very much!**

In truth, Lucius Malfoy didn't know how he felt. She was a mudblood. And he hated her for it. Of course he did. He was on the right side after all, but something about seeing her there so young and earnest at times, made him feel...odd. He'd hurt many other young girls before. And boys too. Just so that they didn't feel left out. But he could take comfort in the fact that he didn't know how old they were exactly. But this girl? She was seventeen, like Draco, she went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, like Draco, he'd seen her in Diagon Alley before now, buying her school things, like Draco, she'd had people who'd loved her, like Draco. But her blood was filthy, he said to himself; and now when he beat her, he half did it in the hope that mud would drip out of her open wounds, but he also did it to punish her for making him feel like this. But every time she screamed as he hit her, and he left her crying and sobbing pitifully on the floor, Lucius Malfoy could only feel shame.

Narcissa Malfoy knew the reality of the girls situation, and yet she did anything she could to lie through her perfect white teeth to her that she was lucky, snapping at her when the girl was smart enough to see otherwise. Sometimes, Narcissa wanted nothing to do with her, to keep her out of her sight and out of mind. But then, on the other days, she wanted to be as almost a surrogate mother to her towards her. She knew full well that the girl was looking for a surrogate mother, and she was determined to be one for her, but for know, the girl was too broken for now. She'd wait until it was safe enough to do so. After all, neither Malfoy quite knew how to treat her for the moment. The only instruction that they had received was to keep her alive.

This was why they were both relieved, and yet fearful, when he came to their house in a flourish, demanding that he see his, 'little princess', as he mockingly called her. Lucius couldn't bear to be the one to go and find her, knowing all too well that she would kick up another fuss, and was therefore relieved when the Dark Lord said that he would go to meet her himself. Alone. Narcissa looked up sharply at that, but Lucius was lost for words. They both were. What could they do to defy him? What could she herself even do to defy him? As they waited they honestly wondered who was more frightened. Her? Or them?

Hermione Granger sat in the corner of her cell, huddled together, still in the clothes she wore in the final battle. The clothes that she wore when Harry died. When Ron died. She sniffed her denim jacket now, still trying remember the scent of them. As her sleeve brushed past her pocket, she felt the crackle of paper. Curiously, she slipped her fingers inside and pulled out a small scroll of parchment. Heart beating, and her pulse racing, she unrolled it and was met with a familiar black scrawl.

_I love you._

And on the back.

_Just thought that you ought to know._

'_I love you too.'_ Hermione whispered.

'How very touching.' Came a sneer from the opposite end of the room.

Hermione jumped out of her skin as she snatched the small piece of parchment away, and looked up into the scarlet slits of Lord Voldemort. The last time they'd been this close, Ron had had his arm wrapped tightly around her to offer protection. Now, she was all too aware of the empty weight around her shoulders.

Although he was sitting down in a suddenly constructed ornate chair, he was taller than she remembered, and the thin body that she had once considered frail nearly shook with energy and hidden strength. Her eyes darted to the door and he smirked silkily.

'Hello, mudblood.'

Hermione said nothing. Instead she focused her gaze on the trail of his black robes. Rather than having a hem at the end, they billowed out into smoke, making him seem far more ethereal than she could have ever possibly imagined.

'Good girl.' He breathed softly. 'You seem to know your place already.'

Angrily, Hermione clenched her jaw, but she wasn't stupid. She still remained quiet.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair as he began to play with his wand, the long elegant fingers twirling it around in his grasp. 'Tell me,' he said, in that same courteous, yet threatening tone, 'what would you like me to do with you?'

It required an answer, but Hermione knew full well that if lied he would know and she would be punished, and yet, if she told the truth, she would also be punished.

But she then felt her insides knot together, and she began to cry out in pain as Voldemort watched her with an angry determination in his eyes. He had grown so accustomed to using the spell, that he didn't even need a wand to cast it. After a few moments the curse was lifted, but Hermione still continued to whimper in fear, before falling back into silence once more. Voldemort studied her intently, leaning forwards in his chair. For a man who was so terrified of death, he looked like a recently dug up corpse, with his pale white flesh sinking into his bones and his lips a tinged blueish-grey, only his eyes stayed alive, dancing menacingly.

'Please let me go.' She at last managed to whisper. He'd done his worst, or so she'd thought, he could only punish her for telling the truth. 'Please? Please let me go?'

Voldemort's lip curled up into a sneer, as he tilted his head to one side as would a curious child. 'I suppose that I could.' He said nonchalantly. However, he then leaned forwards in his chair, his elbows on his thighs, with his hands clasped together as if in prayer, then we looked at her, there was a warning in his eyes. 'But know this, miss mudblood, out there, I have no control of what my Death Eaters might try and do to you. In here, I do. Inside these four small walls, I have a sense of control over them. Outside, I do not. Now, let me ask you this again; what shall I do with you? What would you like me to do with you?'

Hermione could only weigh up her options carefully. A certainty with a pack of evil Death Eaters, or uncertainty with the Dark Lord himself. And although she could practically hear Harry screaming in her head not to, she said carefully. 'Stay. I will stay here.'

'Foolish girl.' Voldemort whispered. 'You could have gone free.'

Hermione said nothing. She was not a foolish girl. She knew full well what the price for freedom would have been, and it was not something that she would be willing to risk and pay.

'Miss Hermione Granger.' Voldemort hissed, leaning back into his chair. 'Alone, at last.'

'How do you know my name?' She had not meant to sound so bold, yet even now under his stare she did not quiver in fear as she had done in the past.

A small triumphant smile crept onto Voldemort's lips, and she realised that he'd wanted her to ask this question for a long time.

'Why, Miss Granger.' He rose and swept over to circle her, the black smoke of the end of his robes making her cough violently. It was like choking on death. 'You got Potter through the level of potions, so that he could collect the Philosopher's Stone. You gave Potter clues to my whereabouts in the Chamber of Secrets, you helped Sirius Black to escape, you tutored Potter through the Triwizard Tournament, and you came up with the idea for bloody Dumbledore's Army.' He said the name scathingly. 'You nearly managed to prevent Potter from going to the Department of Mysteries; you were apparently one of the best fighters in the Department of Mysteries, you practically fed Potter the answers in his sessions with that fool, Dumbledore, you apparated them out of danger a countless number of times, you broke into a Gringotts' Vault dressed as one of my dearest followers, you stole from me, you destroyed one of my many Horcruxes, and you fought me' why, you have been as big a thorn in my side as Potter had.' He swooped down beside her, so close, and yet no breath tickled on her neck. 'And now, you shall have your punishment.'

'Are you going to kill me?' She wanted to know. Oddly enough, the idea didn't scare her as much as it used to. Instead, it felt calming. She was going to see them all again.

Voldemort grinned. 'Why no, Miss Granger, your punishment is a lot worse than that. You shall find it out in due course.'

And with a whirl of more black smoke, he was gone.

He was back within an hour or two. He seemed to melt into the room quietly, rather than the usual _pop_ of the other witches and wizards when they apparated.

'How have they been treating you?' Voldemort asked.

Hermione hesitated, before shrugging her shoulders. 'As well as they can be, under the circumstances.'

He smiled at that. 'And what delightful circumstances.' He rose out of his chair and strode towards her, this time she was standing and yet he still easily towered above her. 'I have a proposition for you.'

Hermione waited, unsure that she was going to like what she heard.

'People are still trying to fight with me.' He rolled his eyes. 'I kill them of course. Quickly, and easily, but they still go on about dying for honour. I want it to end. I want everybody to love, and to fear the Dark Lord.'

'And you want me to lead the way?'

He smiled, as if pleased. 'They told me that you were smart. Good girl. Beautiful girl. You will comply?'

Hermione spat in his face. 'I'm going to have to acquiesce your request.' She sneered. 'Means no.'

Voldemort snarled, as he grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her off of her feet. Ignoring her struggles, he hissed aggressively. 'Don't you ever, do that again. Or I will destroy you.'

'How?' Hermione challenged, far braver than she actually felt. 'By killing me? Please do. I would much rather that.'

The crimson and the brown eyes glared at each other for a long while, before Voldemort roughly hurled Hermione to the floor, bringing her with a painful crash onto her knees. 'Death would only be too easy for you.' He jeered, easily restraining her thrashing body. 'No, I have something better in mind.'

They were still in the cell, but the opposite end was gone. Instead, she was looking at the ruined wreckage of Hogwarts Castle. Hermione gasped in terror when she saw a lone figure, dressed in ripped clothing and determinedly clutching his wand. He had red hair.

'Ron.' She breathed.

Voldemort gave a low chuckle in her ear. 'I think that you will enjoy this miss mudblood, don't look away now.'

The Voldemort from the memory stepped forwards. _'Idiot boy.' He laughed cuttingly. 'You sacrifice your pureblood for her filth? Or would you rather join us instead.'_

_Ron snorted derisively. 'You're amusing, aren't you? You think that I would rather join you and live, than maybe dying in honour. Fat chance.'_

_Voldemort's eyes gleamed. 'You left them once before. I think that you can do it again.'_

_Ron paled slightly as the other Death Eaters guffawed with their Dark Lord. Nevertheless, Ron recovered and adopted a roguish grin. 'I joined them many times before. I think that I can stay with them again.' _

'_Are you not afraid of death, pureblood Weasley?'_

'_I am more afraid of betrayal.' _

'_Why did you save the girl?'_

_A genuine smile crept onto Ron's face as he looked away from them all, his features softening. 'Because I love her. You don't know what that feels like. To love someone. To jump a little bit inside every time you see her. To live just for her smile. To love someone so much, that you would die for them just to bide them a little bit of time to escape.' _

'_Do you plan on dying, pureblood Weasley?'_

_Ron shook his head, grinning as he looked at Voldemort again, without fear. 'No. Not at all. I plan on killing all of you. And then I plan on finding her, and living the rest of my life with her. If I die in the process, I will look over her. I will always be there to protect her.'_

'_She's going to need it.' Voldemort whispered. 'Do you know what we're going to do to her when we find her?'_

_Ron's jaw set slightly, but he said nothing. _

'_I'm not going to kill her, no, that's too easy. Too quick. Her punishment is to keep her alive. To torture her every day until her mind can do it for her. Does that sound like fun, pureblood Weasley? Shall I hurt your precious filthy-'_

_He was cut off by a blast of red light by the furious Ron. The duel had begun between the two of them. Ron fired a dozen different curses to the fifty Death Eaters that surrounded him, never giving up in his fight. When Fenir Greyback leapt at him, Ron somehow had the strength to easily throw him off and to carry on fighting. _

'_Is that the best you can do?' He laughed at them. 'Come on! Come on!' _

_It was then that Bellatrix Lestrange ran forwards and stabbed him in the stomach with her knife. _

Hermione screamed for him, _but he could not hear her. Instead he fell to his knees. Voldemort stepped forwards and lifted his chin up with his wand so that the pair were nose to nose. _

'_Crucio.' Lord Voldemort said gently. _

_Ron screamed and withered in pain, as all the Death Eaters rose their wands and said the same. His body twisted on the ground, his face contorted with pain, and yet he still found the strength to scream out. 'I am Ron Billius Weasley. I die with the courage and the bravery that all of you lack, for a cause that I fully believe in. I am Harry James Potter's best friend, and I die fighting for him. I am Ron Billius Weasley, and I am in love with Hermione Jean Granger.' It was then that Voldemort leapt forwards and with a terrifying grin cried. 'Avada Kedavra!'_

_Ron screamed in shock, and was cut off quickly by the explosion of green light. _

'Ron!' Hermione cried out. 'Ron! Ron!' She tried desperately to fight the strong arms of Voldemort who held her around the throat and the stomach. But as she fought, the scene slowly melted out of sight, but with enough time for her to see the Voldemort from the memory kick his head to look directly at the pair of them. Those beautiful, yet dead, brown eyes were the last thing she saw, before her vision was marred with tears.

'How did you like that?' Mocked Voldemort, 'did you enjoy seeing him die? Did you enjoy seeing him being tortured like that?' She wrestled against him, but he continued to hold onto her firmly. 'How do you like it, that while he was being hurt, you were running away.'

'I-I didn't have a choice.' She stammered.

'Everyone has a choice.' He sneered. 'You were just all too willing to go and living him. How do you like that? How can you live with yourself? Would he forgive you? You've brought this punishment upon yourself.'

She flung herself away from him, and landed with a crash on the stone floor, hitting her head hard enough to draw blood. Lord Voldemort towered over her, with a scary glint in his eye, and a new grin upon his face that she didn't quite recognize. But she knew what it meant.

'Beautiful girl.' He whispered delicately. 'Pretty girl. Will you be my little miss mudblood, mudblood? Will you beg for me?'

She shuddered as his cold, cold hand stroked her face and held onto her chin.

'Look at me.'

It was a command, and eventually she was able to meet his blood-red eyes.

The next thing Hermione knew, she was being smothered by his kiss; being pushed back onto the floor, unable to breathe as the weight of him suffocated her. Hermione began to cry as he expertly and quickly unbuttoned her jacket, eventually she summoned up enough strength to kick him and to scream out for help.

Yelling out in pain, Voldemort grabbed her head and smashed it against the stone. 'Idiot girl.' He thundered angrily. 'Do you really think that anyone will come and rescue you? They're dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. You belong to me now.'

The faces of them all swam into her mind like ghosts. Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, Harry, Ron. All of them, unable to help her.

By the time he had unbuttoned and pulled down her jeans, she was past screaming aloud, but tears still spilled onto her rosy cheeks, as she lay there helplessly, thankful for the small mercy that it was in private and not in front of his foul Death Eaters as she knew could have been a possibility. However, when he forced himself inside of her, she screamed even more. The pain was unbearable, both physically, and emotionally, and mentally as the face of Ron Weasley came into her mind.

'It was supposed to be you.' She sobbed to herself.

Lord Voldemort grinned wickedly as he pushed himself further inside her and bit onto her neck. Hard. Hermione thrashed around violently, but it was still to no avail. And eventually she stopped struggling again. What was the point? She could kick him off her, but what would happen next? She couldn't escape. And he would only force her back onto the ground again.

When he'd done with her, he rose gracefully, his robe already tied around himself again. Hermione lay there in shock. Her blood mixed with his – she did not want even to think the word.

'I'll be back again soon, miss mudblood.' He assured her, with an evil smile. 'So don't you worry. In the meantime, I have given my Death Eaters permission to do with you what they will.'

Hermione sat up hurriedly. 'What do you mean?' She cried out. 'You said, you promised that in this room I was safe from them.'

An emotion flickered past Lord Voldemort's face. And yet she couldn't tell if it was amusement or irritation. 'Number 1, miss mudblood, I never promise anything. Number 2, I believe that my exact words were I have no control of what my Death Eaters might try and do to you. In here, I do. Inside these four small walls, I have a sense of control over them. Outside, I do not. Which leads me to my next point; Number 3, I have the control to tell them to do these things to you. I can tell them to stop it, and I can tell them to do it. You're still in a far better position here, than you are out there. Believe me. Some of my Death Eaters out there still want to kill you. Au Revoir, miss mudblood.'

Leaving Hermione there, to cry.


	5. Then I was young and unafraid

_She'd read about Harry Potter in the books before she came to Hogwarts. She knew nearly everything about him oddly enough, and while the girls in her neighbourhood whispered about their crush on Prince Harry, she thought about having a crush on Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. When she'd actually met him she completely blown away. The Harry Potter in her head was a golden boy, both in looks and in wealth. The Harry Potter who was looking up at her in the train compartment was smaller and thinner than she'd previously imagined, and he had the look of a boy who hadn't been loved. He didn't look like the kind of boy who'd defeated one of the darkest lords as a baby. He had Sellotape wrapped around his glasses. _

_So no. Hermione Granger did not ever have a crush on Harry Potter. But she had something far better. She'd had something that would make her go to the ends of the Earth for him. At the age of twelve they were already taking on that same Dark Wizard, she didn't even think of the danger. None of them did. He'd asked for help, and they'd given it. _

_She didn't fear the danger. She didn't fear the Death Eaters. She didn't even fear the Dark Lord. _Now however, she did. She'd scratch at the grey walls when she heard the thudding footsteps on the stone walls, sending vibrations across to her bare feet. She would scratch and scratch, even when her nails were no more and her fingers bled. She would only stop, when she was dragged away, roughly around the waist and tortured until she bled. Sometimes it would result in her begging for the other option. They found it funny. Prim little Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter, begging to be fucked by his enemies.

Hermione Granger was frightened of the danger. She was frightened of the Death Eaters. She was especially frightened of the Dark Lord and the tricks that he would conjure up that would cause the dead rotting body of Ron Weasley to be lying next to her while she slept, waiting for her to wake up to place the festering hands around her throat and squeeze until it exploded into dust. Hermione Granger had grown to be frightened of these things. But one thing she was not frightened of, was death.

**So I know that these past few chapters have been CRAP, but I have my Performing Arts Exam Tomorrow of Romeo and Juliet, (I'm Juliet! EEEE!), and so I really need to focus on that. Please keep up with the story, I know it may not seem like at it at the moment, but I do have a major plan coming up. AND A HUGE PLOT TWIST! So please keep up your reviews, and please do tell me about your opinions on characters and any extra plot ideas. **


	6. And dreams were made and used and wasted

**sweet-tang-honney - Thank you for your constant reviews and support.**

**As mad as one can get - I'm a little bit in love with you. Just so you know. Thank you, for the Juliet comment! xx**

_Harry came bounding into the tent, his face full of excitement. Ron and Hermione looked up eagerly, he'd found a Horcrux, hadn't he? _

_But instead he held up two fish. 'I finally caught something!' He crowed triumphantly. _

_Later as they were pushing the fish around their plates, Ron looked up with a mischievous grin. 'You learn something new every day. I never knew that fish could be burnt.' _

_And suddenly the trio were laughing. Laughing with the joy that they hadn't felt for months, and once they started, they just couldn't stop. _

'_When we defeat Voldemort, what are we going to do next?' The three of them were in the tent. Harry, looking over the Marauder's Map, Hermione reading The Tales of Beadle of the Bard, and Ron, who had asked the question, lounging around on the bed, looking up at the pair of them._

_Harry considered the question seriously. 'Sleep.' He said honestly. _

_Ron laughed. 'So, when it's all over and everyone wants to celebrate and give you all the attention in the world, you'll be snoring in Grimauld Place?'_

_Harry shook his head firmly. 'Not Grimauld Place. Sirius hated it there. I'll sell it, and get my own place, in Godric's Hollow. Not my old house, but one like it.' He shrugged, a small smile creeping onto his face. 'Maybe get a pretty girl to share it with.'_

_Hermione knew full well that he was talking about Ginny, but Ron clearly didn't for he guffawed loudly. But after a small silence he turned shyly to Hermione. 'What are you doing after all of this, Hermione?'_

_On the outside, Hermione Granger presented herself who logically lived in each moment in the present day. But on the inside, she was a dreamer. One who still dreamed of love at first sight and happily ever afters. _

'_I'd like to work in the Ministry.' She said honestly. 'No, not like that.' Hermione laughed at Harry's mock stunned and indignant expression. 'I'd like to make it good again.'_

'_She means SPEW.' Harry hissed teasingly to Ron. _

_For once, Ron didn't laugh with him. Instead he shushed Harry and looked at Hermione intently, ready for her to continue. _

'_No Harry, not SPEW. But I guess, kind of like it. I want to help people who need to be helped. I might not make much money out of it, but I would rather be doing that than making money out of other people's misery.'_

'_Like Malfoy?'_

_She nodded dismissively whilst rolling her eyes. 'Exactly. Like Malfoy. And yeah, I may not live in a great big mansion like him, money will be tight, but I'd be happy with some little cottage somewhere. As long as it was somewhere safe.'_

'_Well, um, if you wanted to flat share at all.' Ron was still talking to her, but he was awkwardly avoiding her gaze. 'Then, well, you know, I'd be happy to, um-' He tailed off and looked up at her a little desperately. _

'_Yeah.' Hermione said. 'Yeah, I'd like that.'_

_The tips of Ron's ears went pink._

_For several more moment, there was an embarrassed silence. Finally, Harry broke it. 'Um, ok. Horcruxes then.'_

_Then they were all arguing. _

'_We thought we knew what you were doing!'_

_Crying, Hermione was flinging herself in between them, but the strength of two tall adolescent boys was too much for her, and several times she found herself being pushed out of the way. Neither of them wanted her to hurt them and they were both afraid that she'd be in the firing line when they began to swing punches at one another._

_When the fight was over, Ron stormed out of the tent and she followed. _

'_Ron! Ron!' _

_He ignored her, walking strongly away while she ran along beside him. _

'_Ron, please, talk to me.'_

'_Why should I?' He rounded on her furiously, more hatred in his eyes than she'd ever seen in them before. 'I get it. You choose him.'_

_Hermione was left startled, standing alone before recovering and running off after him. 'This isn't about choosing, Ron.' She started desperately. 'We said that we'd help and-'_

'_It's got everything to do with choosing.' He turned again, his face flushed and his eyes dark and dangerous. 'The golden boy, Harry Potter. And then there's me. Ron Weasley. The tag-along. Of all people, I thought that you would have preferred me more to him. I thought that you were different. I thought that you cared for me. There could have been something there, Hermione. There could have been something!'_

_He was yelling furiously at her now. His hands curled up into fists as she shrunk underneath his livid glare. _

'_Please, Ron.' She whispered. 'You're frightening me.' _

_Ron continued to stare enraged at her, but suddenly he reached out, Hermione flinched, but he only gently brushed her cheek with his finger and then pulled her into a warm embrace. She nestled into him, the top of her head just resting underneath his chin._

'_I'm sorry, Hermione.' His warm breath brushing against her crown. 'I'm so, so sorry. I would never mean to frighten you, you know that, don't you?' _

'_I know.' She mumbled, clinging onto the folds of his jacket. _

_Bashfully he kissed the top of her head and murmured into it. 'Come with me, Hermione. Please, come with me. I can't do this without you.'_

'_And Harry can't do this without us either.'_

_Ron pushed her away. His face hurt and betrayed. 'It's back to him now again isn't it?'_

'_Ron, please?'_

_But it was too late. He was gone. _

_And then they were kissing. Yeah, sure, a lot of time had passed between then and now. But they were kissing and that was the main thing. No, the main thing was that she didn't want to stop. There wasn't any of that awkwardness that she had originally anticipated. He didn't even push her away. If anything, he responded far more enthusiastically than she did. _

_And when they finally broke apart, they were laughing; drinking in each others appearance as if truly seeing each other for the first time. Grabbing onto each others clothes and hair and face and shoulders, just so that they couldn't leave one another. _

'_Hermione Granger.' Ron said with more tenderness and honesty than she'd ever heard before. 'I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.'_

'_I love you too.'_

The face of the dead and rotting Ron Weasley came into her mind.


	7. There was no ransom to be paid

Y The room was small, but not as cramped as a cell. Bare, but not lacking. Normal, but not comfortable. Trapped in this room, Hermione decided to explore it bit by bit, each individual brick, each thread on the rug, one day at a time so that she wouldn't go mad with boredom. She poured over these small trivial details like she would at school with her books. And like them, she knew each bit off my heart. But unlike them, she took no joy or pleasure in it. But no matter how hard she tried to keep herself from exploring a little more each day, she'd flout the rule and explore several things a day instead. And soon, she'd run out of things to look at.

All except, the wardrobe.

But how could you explore a wardrobe bit by bit? Eventually, curiosity got the better of her and she approached it.

And then moved herself away.

What horrors could there be waiting inside for her? A boggart? Or worse. She'd seen horrible things at Number 12 Grimauld Palace. What more horrible things could she see at a far darker house, where the wardrobe was placed in the room of the person that the possibly hated the most?

Then again, the times that she'd been able to sleep, nothing had ever happened to her. Nothing had ever crept out. So would something creep out if she now opened the doors?

She remembered her mother. There was a monster hiding her bed, behind the door, in the toy box, in the wardrobe.

'_It's just a thought.'_ Her mother would say. _'Just a nasty thought. Remember, you can shut your eyes and make it go away.'_

She believed it too, at the time, and really sincerely believed that by clamping her hands tightly over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, that the monsters would go away.

But they would not.

And then she went to Hogwarts and learnt that the monsters were real.

'What can they do to me?' Hermione asked herself as she placed her hands on the door knobs. 'Death is a welcome punishment.'

However, what she had least imagined, was lurking in the wardrobe.

Ron Weasley.

Looking far more handsome and happy than ever. He was positively glowing as he beamed at her and lifted her off of her feet and into his arms.

'I've been looking everywhere for you.'

Hermione was in shock. She was too stunned to speak. But that didn't stop her from kissing him back as he near enough leapt on her, grabbing at her clothes and his hands running up into her hair.

'God, I love you.' He breathed.

They continued to kiss, barely pausing to breathe. To the point where she was gasping for air. As her lungs became more and more restricted, she gently pushed him away.

And was met with the leering face of Lord Voldemort.

She screamed and made to push him off of her, but he held onto her wrists too tightly, and continued to drag her onto the floor.

'P-please.' She cried out in pain. 'Please, don't. It hurts, please, please don't.'

All at once, a sudden a smarting agony twisted at Hermione's insides, causing her to shriek and thrash out violently with her legs. 'Please, stop.' She screamed again. 'Please, please stop! I beg of you, anything, anything but that I-'

She'd gone to look back up at Lord Voldemort, but instead the dead eyes of Ron Weasley stared back.

'No.' Hermione squeezed her eyes as tight as she could, but somehow the image had even got right into her mind. 'No. No. No. No. No.'

Slowly, his features began to melt away, and soon the waxy and bony face of Lord Voldemort was leering back at her again. She opened her eyes, and sure enough he was there leering down at her again, his eyes more soulless than the dead Ron Weasley's.

'What would you like me to do?' It was a familiar question to her ears, and it was always phrased as if she really had a choice. She'd tried asking for freedom, but he'd only pointed to the pack of werewolves who were roaming around in the forest outside. As much as Hermione would have welcomed death, she did not welcome the agonising pain which would no doubt come with a large pack of werewolves. 'What would you like me to do to you?' He asked again, softly.

There was rape. It left her physically and emotionally drained and sore. Each time was a violation. Each time was an insult.

There was torture. Lord Voldemort did not even need to utter the curse anymore; it had become so familiar to him. Hermione often couldn't take that pain. The last time he'd used it on her; she'd been tortured for five hours straight. Finally, begging, Hermione asked him to rape her.

There was Ron. His ability to turn into Ron or to conjure him up to her reality or into her imaginings were far too horrific for her to bear. She could no longer remember him as that sunny freckled youth. Now, Hermione could only see the maggots crawling across and feasting on his blueish-purple tinged grey flesh, dried blood crusting all around him and his bruises and cuts, which were constantly leaking pus and other occasional squirts of blood. He'd taken the boy that she'd loved, and turned him into a monster whom she now greatly feared.

Finally, with reluctance, and a long silver blade pushing up the inside of her thigh and gently stroking it with the tip, Hermione leaned forward and whispered in his ear her answer.

It was not so bad; she tried to reason with herself. It didn't hurt as physically as much as the Cruciatus Curse. It didn't hurt as emotionally as the body of Ron Weasley did. The only unbearable problem with this punishment, was the one that she had conjured up for herself. The betrayed eyes of her love.

Lucius Malfoy burst into their bedroom with such a sudden haste that Narcissa sat up in bed and snapped shut the book that she was reading.

'Husband? Husband, what is it?' She asked with a whispered worried urgency.

Lucius raked his near shaking hands through his long silvery blonde hair. 'The Dark Lord is hosting a party, here, tonight.' He told her. 'And yet it is me, who is the fool who is organising it.'

'Careful.' Narcissa said warningly, knowing of her husbands lack skills in Occulemency.

'I know. I know.' Tired, Lucius rubbed his eyes with his hands and pinched the bride of his nose with his fingers.

Soothingly, Narcissa rose from the bed and placed her husband's hands in hers. 'My love, it will be fine.' She told him, a false smile pinned to her face, one that she had worn for the past eighteen years, since she'd been married to Lucius and had first been introduced to that dreadful man.

'Careful.' Lucius warned.

At first she feared that she had let her shield down, but then she realised that she was near to jabbing him with his cloak pins.

'It is a great honour.' Lucius said to himself.

'A great honour.' Narcissa agreed.

They said nothing for a while, too deep in thought for the consequences of the two of them.

'When is Draco next home?' Lucius wanted to know, crossing over his wife to study his reflection in the long silver snake mirror before them both.

Narcissa moved back towards the bed, pausing to think. 'Why, Christmas, I suppose. Why?'

'The Dark Lord wishes to see him.' Lucius said tersely.

Narcissa gave a small sharp intake of breath. 'Why?' She demanded. 'Who does he want dead?'

'No one.' Lucius walked over to hold onto her arms reassuringly, pulling her closer into him as he stared intently into her eyes. 'But he wants information. He seems to think that Draco can get the Granger girl to talk.'

Narcissa wrinkled her nose up in confusion. 'But, but they didn't even like each other in school? He knows this, doesn't he?' She demanded suddenly, filled with maternal protectiveness for her son.

Lucius nodded gravely. 'He knows this. But he seems to think that the presence of a familiar face will loosen her tongue somewhat, even if it's just confessing all out of boredom.'

'Wouldn't he be better off transfiguring himself into one of her friends?'

Lucius tutted slightly at that, not at his Mistress but at his Master. 'He's done that trick far too many times now. She no longer trusts him. She knows full well that it is him each time.'

Narcissa faltered, concerned. 'She'll be brought out at the feast?'

'I doubt it not.'

'You want-' Narcissa looked determinedly up at him, her posture challenging, but her eyes pleading.

'I can't. I've told them that I cannot bring myself to do it because she is a mudblood and because I have a loving wife at home,' tenderly he kissed her hand, 'but in truth it is because I cannot touch a girl in that way who is the same age as Draco. I just can't do that. I can't.'

Narcissa slipped her arms around her husband's waist. 'Then, that at least, is one less thing that she has to worry about.'

Lucius leaned back to study his wife with his grey-blue eyes. Gently, he then pushed aside a long strand of her platinum blonde hair from out of her warm brown eyes. She was very beautiful, undeniably so. All of the Black Sisters had been. But Narcissa in particular had easily been the prettiest. Of middling height and a slender build, like that of a ballerina's, she had long blonde hair that would ripple down her back, had she not always kept it confined in that tight bun of hers. Her skin was the colour of a luminous moonlight, and her long thin lips were the colour of Autumn Leaves.

'Husband?' She asked, concerned. 'Husband, what is it? What's wrong?'

'I am so very lucky to have you.'


	8. No song unsung no wine untasted

Lucius glanced around his home, and shuddered.

It was a great honour to be hosting the Dark Lord's Party. But it felt so demeaning to have your home be open to all sorts of people. And not blood-traitors or anything like that, but thieves and crooks and generally any vile selfish creature you could imagine and ever come across and just fling them into Malfoy Manor. Several times he'd had to snatch his own silverware out of these dirty hands, and send them off to the next room with a none too gentle cuff around the ear. But he couldn't send them away, no, the Dark Lord was to busy watching him, for him to do that. Instead, he'd had to smile sweetly at his master, just like he always did.

Lord Voldemort sat in a large ornamental silver throne, seemingly conjured up out of thin air by his presence alone. He was seated several platforms higher than everybody else where they stood, and a little distance away from everybody else, watching over them all, like a child watches his parents friends around for dinner. Lucius was tempted to state that he enjoyed acting as the puppet master of them all, but on the other hand, a continuous thought kept on floating into his mind, and that was that Lord Voldemort, for all his fame and glory, was simply observing because he didn't quite know how to fit in. He didn't know how to make a conversation with somebody that wasn't based on himself and his own needs. That basic human ability was gone from him, or he'd just never known how to use it in the first place.

But then again, it was just a theory.

It was only when the doors opened, and three figures came in, did his thin mouth curve into a twisted smile.

Hermione Granger was being dragged by the upper parts of her arms by Crabbe Senior and Goyle Senior. By the delighted grins of their faces, Lucius could unwillingly guess what had happened between them. For a moment he wondered why the girl was not walking herself, but then he saw with a sickening curl in his stomach, that her feet were all bloodied and bruised and hardly useful for standing on, let alone walking on.

'Welcome, gentle lady.' Voldemort jeered.

Cackles echoed around The Great Hall, and she winced as if the noise and the light of the room were too much for her, a girl who had been trapped within the same four walls for a long time.

'Come here, my pet, and sit by my feet.' He hissed again.

Crabbe and Goyle Senior let go of her arms and she fell to the floor, her arms and legs all sticking out at awkward angles, like a broken puppet. They all watched as she feebly attempted to crawl, her weak arms collapsing every now and again under her thin and frail body.

After five minutes of uncomfortably watching this painful torture, Lucius Malfoy rushed forwards and helped her, assisting her to get closer to the man who she probably most wanted to avoid. Nonetheless, she looked gratefully at him, tears forming in her eyes at the first act of kindness that she had experienced for this lengthy period.

Hermione flinched as Lucius Malfoy laid her down, as Nagini had protectively twisted herself around her Master's ankles, and was now hissing vehemently at her.

Some hours later, the doors were opened again and three figures also came through. But the one in the middle was not supported. He did not need to be, as he strode purposefully and proudly through his home and gave a bow to his new Master.

But when he saw her, Draco Malfoy did a double take.

'Has she changed much?' Voldemort wanted to know.

'Her pride's gone.' Draco said smoothly, recovering quickly after coming to his senses. 'As always, you have done excellent work m'lord.'

The rest of that evening was horrific. Wine poured from the chandelier like a waterfall, and there was more food consumed than Lucius had ever seen in his life. The party got rowdier and rowdier as the night progressed, to the point where most of the Death Eaters were looking uncomfortable. Lucius watched as, to get them out of the way, Voldemort flung the girl at them and waved them all away. He shuddered as he heard their deep unpleasant laughs and her whimpers of fear. Then, all that was left were himself, standing by his Master and his son, Draco, and the gang of thugs that were drunkenly staggering around his now ruined Hall. After watching them in disgust for several more hours, the Dark Lord rose from his space and smiled charmingly at them all.

'Gentlemen.' He said.

Lucius had to suppress a scoff. Gentlemen indeed.

As if hearing him, Voldemort turned and gave Lucius a warning glance. Lucius looked down humbly in apology and his Master continued.

'Gentlemen, I thank you for coming. Your work has been invaluable to me, and I am so glad to have so many followers. A few of you, will come with me, for there is much to talk about. But fear not, if I do not call your name, you will be going to the next room where there will be a marvellous entertainment prepared for you.'

The two Malfoys looked at one another in confusion. There was no entertainment prepared for them in the room to which he pointed. That room, was just a spare room, it stored in some old things that they hadn't quite got around to getting rid of yet.

When the Dark Lord had picked out various men, around twenty or so, the others all went to the next room, with Voldemort and the two Malfoys following. When their Master stopped by the doorway, the Malfoys did too, wondering what was going to happen next, for Voldemort's once pleasant smile had turned into a fierce snarl.

'I have welcomed you all graciously into the home of one of my most esteemed Death Eaters, and all you have done is ruined his property and stolen from him.'

The group of men looked worried, not one of them denied the charge.

'And so, you must wait in here for your punishment. Fear not, I am a merciful Lord. It will not be as prolonged as I could have made it.' It was then that he shut the door on them all, with himself and the Malfoys on the other side.

'Master, what?' Draco began.

But Voldemort had made a sharp slashing movement at the door, and the next moment, there were unearthly screams coming from the room, and thick black smoke billowing from underneath the crack of the door and the smell of burning flesh. He had somehow set the whole room alight and now they were all slowly burning to death.

Both Malfoys gagged at the stench, however it only lasted five minutes or so, and then the screaming stopped.

'I'll get the Granger girl to clear it up for you.' Lord Voldemort said dismissively, turning away from the door. 'I would like to give her more nightmares. She is sleeping too easily at night.'


	9. But the tigers come at night

'What do you want me to find out?'

'Anything.'

'My Lord, please, forgive me, but I do not understand?'

'Draco, I am not enjoying this victory as much as I should be, I feel, different, it's true; but I don't feel triumphant. I am just waiting for something to come around the corner. Potter could never have organised something himself, he is not smart enough, but she is. I want to know what it is, so that I can stop it.'

'My Lord, Potter is dead.'

'Of course he is dead, you fool. I killed him, I should know. But what if they try to bring him back? His body has disappeared you know. What will they do, to try and bring him back?'

'My Lord, forgive me, but, I know these people. I have had the unfortunate knowledge of how Potter behaves.'

'And I have had the unfortunate knowledge of how he used to think. Speak in past tense, Draco.'

'Forgive me, My Lord, what I mean is, is that Potter would never use the kind of magic that we would sensibly use in order to truly conquer Death. He thinks that it is too dark.'

'Are the Hallows dark?'

'My Lord?'

'It is a simple question, Draco. Answer it.'

'Well, no, My Lord?'

'Exactly. Would he have used them, in order to have been brought back?'

'My Lord, you are the true Master of Death, you have said so, many times.'

'No, Draco. I ought to be. I have the Resurrection Stone as one of my many Horcruxes. I have the ability to turn myself invisible, without the use of the cloak, so therefore I am far more powerful, am I not?'

'Of course, My Lord.'

'And then I have the Elder Wand. But, despite having conquered it from Snape and losing a valuable source of information that I could still be using to this day, I have only been performing my usual magic, just like I used to before I killed Snape. And before he killed that old fool, Dumbledore. Because you weren't able to.'

He shot Malfoy a filthy look, and Draco looked away nervously, terrified that his old cowardice could still be used against him now. 'My Lord,' he protested, 'is it not possible that perhaps your own abilities are far superior to the use of the Elder Wand?'

Lord Voldemort looked pleased with this answer, for he smiled.

'And, My Lord, how could Potter possibly use the Hallows then? Did he even know about them?'

'Unfortunately, he did. I could see into his mind, they were becoming his obsession. And after research, I could see that he was related to the youngest Perrell brother. However, as you have rightly insinuated, Potter was always too thick to make the connection there. This is why I want to know if Miss Granger had any tricks up her sleeve, that could bring me down.'

'My Lord, I will find out any, if at all possible.'

'Do, Draco. Do. And do not be afraid to use force. Do not be afraid of that, at all.'

Hermione felt herself be slammed against the stone wall. She gasped as she felt her head crack, but before she could pay it too much attention, Rockwood had produced a long knife and in a few silver flashes, Hermione felt the metallic taste of her own blood spill into her mouth and a horrific pain on her face.

She'd given up begging. They only ridiculed her. When Rockwood made to make another stab at her face, the older one, Nott, reached forwards and stopped his arm.

'Now, now, Rockwood.' He said, hungrily. 'Don't ruin her pretty face, anymore than it is already ruined.'

Hermione had to stop herself from shuddering as a long gnarled finger reached forwards and gently stroked her face. When he pulled away, her blood was on his hands. Seeing her looking so disgusted, Nott smiled and licked it off his fingers.

She'd been raped by every single one of them, but this didn't make it any easier. Especially when they all started to argue about what order they'd go in, all the while they argued, Nott only continued to intently study her terrified and ashamed looking face, a wicked grin spreading onto his bloodied lips. This was why she wasn't all too surprised, when it was he who stepped even closer to her and started to unwrap her robes.


	10. With their voices soft as thunder

Later on, he went to see her in her room. But as Draco was walking down the familiar stone corridors, lined with emerald green tapestries, he heard unfamiliar piercing screams and loud screeches of laughter. Draco swallowed, trying to suppress the old feeling of nervousness, and instead just waited for it all to be over.

When seven or eight Death Eaters came chuckling out of the small cramped room, Draco slipped inside.

She lay, huddled on the floor, making no recognition of his footsteps from behind her; and when he reached out and touched that familiar tangle of brown curls, she didn't even flinch.

'Oh God, Hermione.' He breathed. 'What have they all done to you?'

Tenderly, he turned her over onto her back and grimaced at what he saw. Crudely, someone had cut a large lightening bolt across her face, starting at the hairline, going through the eyebrow, across the eye to the nose, and then finally splitting the lip. This, along with the numerous other bruises that had to be several days old at least made him feel sick. Carefully, he checked for broken bones and then lifted her up into his arms. Draco was disturbed at how much her eyes looked, but didn't see. It was only when he put her on the bed, did she give a small whimper.

'Hush.' He soothed. 'Please, hush. I won't do anything to you. I promise.'

Hermione was shaking against him, he'd never realised her small she was before; this vulnerability like a child's was a guilty reminder to him that he had been wrong for all these years. Hermione Granger was a human, and as such should be treated like one.

'Th-they r-raped me.' She stammered quietly. 'Please, please Malfoy, I want it to stop - I just want it to.'

'Hush.' Draco said desperately, fully aware that in her mental state she would not be able to block their conversation from his Master when he next looked into her mind.

Hermione started to cry, and Draco groaned as he held her tear-stained face in his hands. 'I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please, please don't cry. I know, I know that it's hard, but please don't cry. He might hear you; he might see you and that won't be good for either of us.'

Now, however, Hermione began to cry even harder, her eyes darting around frantically as if expecting him to, at any moment, emerge from the shadows. With another groan, Draco realised that he'd probably done this before.

In the end, he just let her speak. The Dark Lord had been right, she had only needed a familiar face and then she would talk. He resolved to say that his sympathising with her was only one of his tactics in getting her to open up to him; The Dark Lord could have no problem with that, surely?

Even when he didn't procure any real information.

Draco Malfoy's heart sunk, as the girl in his arms told him that she'd been tortured to the point where she'd honestly thought that she was on fire. Seeing her so unstable had made him seriously wonder if they were slowly torturing her into insanity.

He shuddered when she told him about Ron and what would happen inside her head and out.

And most of all, he cringed when she told him about how often she had been raped, how they laughed at her because she could barely stand up because of it.

When she'd finished, he just let her cry, stroking her hair as she laid her head on his lap. After a while, she managed to sit up, and the blue eyes met the brown.

'Hermione,' Draco began, in a tone that implied confession, 'Hermione, if I could do anything to help you, anything at all, then I would do it.'

Her eyes bore into his. 'Kill me.'

Draco did not know what was worse, the words, or the matter of fact way in which she said them.

'Hermione, you know full well that I can't do that.'

Hermione shrugged, all traces of the tears that she had expelled earlier, all gone. 'I thought that you said that you would do anything to help me.' She challenged.

'Things will get better, I promise this of you.' Draco said, grasping at her small hands. 'Sooner or later, they will forget you and their victory. Then you can have a pleasant life, we can let you out of this room and into a nicer set of rooms instead, perhaps even my old ones?'

'Draco, I have been here too long.'

'You have been here a month, Hermione.'

To his surprise, she gave a small laugh. 'Good God, is that all?' She asked, more to herself than to him.

'You see?' Draco said, in a tone that was supposed to be encouraging. 'Things will get better; you'll see it for yourself in a few months time.'

'I can't wait that long.'

'You can.'

'I can't.'

'You can.'

'I can't.'

'You must. To some, you are still a symbol of hope. He hasn't killed you. He's publicly stated that he's never going to kill you. Please, believe me when I say that you are far more needed by many more right people, rather than these people here.'

She looked up curiously at him. 'Who's still alive?'

'There are many hiding away in France, including the Weasley Family.' He squirmed when he saw her reaction that word, and so carried on hurriedly instead. 'But here we still have many people fighting. Oliver Wood, remember him from your house? Several years above? He's leading the majority of people I think. Seamus Finnegan. Most of our old Professors. The Patil twins, that pompous idiot, Ernie Macmillian. It doesn't sound very much at the moment, but there are hundreds joining every day.'

'How do you know all of this?' She asked inquisitively.

Draco reluctantly blushed, ashamed. 'Because it is my job to hunt them down and to send people to kill them.'

She didn't look surprised, and in some ways this was worse.

'Please Hermione,' he protested, 'I don't do a very good job, and I always let them know when we are coming. I do whatever I can to give them some kind of way to escape. I have never killed anyone.' Draco cursed himself in his head after that little outburst, and resolved again to tell The Dark Lord that it was only a trusting tactic.

Hermione raised her eyebrows sceptically, but said nothing.

That small facial expression was somewhat comforting however, it was like the old Hermione was coming back, the more and more that he talked to her.

'I've been told to try and get information out of you.' He said honestly.

Hermione smiled sardonically. 'Well, I got nothing.'

'What do you know about the Hallows?'

'More than we were letting on.'

'He thought as much. How much did Harry know himself?'

'He convinced himself that it was more than a myth. That's all I ever thought that it was.' Here, she sounded regretful, almost as if she wished that she'd been more supportive of her friend, now that he was dead.

'Did he know that Voldemort is the true Master of Death?'

'He is not the true Master of Death.'

'What?' Draco breathed, in shock.

Hermione laughed scornfully. 'Even if such a thing did exist, it would not be true, for he does not have everything.'

'The Elder Wand.'

'It doesn't work for him, does it?'

'Who does it belong to?'

'I don't know.' She finally admitted reluctantly. He knew that she hated getting an answer wrong, or not knowing the answer at all. 'Harry knew. Harry knew, but he wouldn't tell me, because I would just laugh at him.' She ended her sentence bitterly.

'The Cloak of Invisibility?'

'Does he have one of them?'

'Well, no.'

'Harry thought that his one was probably the original. It could well be, but it could also be a myth.'

'The Resurrection Stone.' This time, Draco was confident that he would have her stomped.

But this time, a light came to her eyes, one that had been absent for a long while. 'It's gone. It's not his anymore. Harry also has it.'

'How can he? It was The Dark Lord's Horcrux?'

'Dumbledore destroyed it.' She explained, talking to him with as much patience as if he were Harry. 'It was in the ring, wasn't it? Well, Dumbledore destroyed it, and then left it to Harry.'

'No. He left the Snitch to Harry. We were searching through his will. That's how we got a hold of The Sword of Gryffindor.'

Hermione really began to laugh at that, and he scowled, suddenly irritated at her superior knowledge of these recent events. 'Wrong again, well, he did leave the Snitch to Harry, that part is true. But The Sword of Gryffindor that you got, was a fake. Dumbledore must have swapped, or something. The next part is only my guess. I think that The Resurrection Stone was left for Harry, by Dumbledore, hidden in the Snitch. Except, I never told Harry this. He was getting too distracted by Hallows than the Horcruxes, which he should have ideally been focusing on.'

Draco was stunned. He'd honestly thought that there had been no hope for them all when Lord Voldemort revealed himself as the Master of Death, but now?

'Thank you, Hermione.' He breathed.

She shrugged. 'I did nothing. Or if I did, it was only to undermine him. I'm still allowed some pleasures.'

Despite the bad information, Draco was having to suppress the fact that he was so very ecstatic as he stood before the Dark Lord, seated majestically on his throne.

As he told the news, Voldemort's face contorted more and more, and Nagini hissed venomously by his side.

'But she thinks that it is all a myth?'

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Do you?'

'I do not have enough understanding in the matter, My Lord.'

'How many of my Horcruxes have been destroyed?'

'You were right about the cup, My Lord. The diary too, unfortunately. However, as well as the ring, she also told me of the diadem and the locket.'

Voldemort swore. 'Potter destroyed these two as well?'

'Sadly to say, My Lord, Crabbe destroyed the diadem with his Fiend Fire, had he known the value of it, then I am sure that he would never have used such an idiotic spell; and as for the locket, it was apparently Weasley. They had the locket for months and would take turns in wearing it.'

'Which is why I know so much about them.' Voldemort said softly.

Slowly, he rose from his throne and laid a gentle hand on Nagini's head. 'She is my only Horcrux left.' He informed Malfoy. 'I need more of them now. I cannot be at risk of dying when I have only just conquered a victory and left the rest of them all defeated. What other information did you get? What does she say of Potter being the Master of Death?'

Draco had carefully chosen not the mention the Elder Wand or the Cloak of Invisibility, and now spoke as smoothly as his lying father before him. 'Nothing, My Lord. My Lord, if I may say so myself, she seems to be very damaged, and not in the right of mind to say anything useful at all. I used my Legimancy against her; however he mind is so broken that not much could be correctly deciphered at all. She seems only to be focusing on your Death Eaters here and her fear of them, rather than anything useful gained in the past.'

Thankfully, Voldemort nodded in agreement, and Draco breathed out a sigh of relief. 'You may be right. I was going to order my Death Eaters away from her anyway. I have big plans for our mudblood friend, and I cannot have them interfering with it.'


	11. As they tear your hope apart

Hermione was shaking. She was shaking because she couldn't breathe. And she couldn't breathe because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the smell of burnt flesh off of her.

She'd had a bath run, and she'd made sure that it had been as hot as they could get it, in the hopes that the steam would just melt off the smell, rather than to freeze it in, but now her skin smelt the same way that theirs did, and she couldn't be sure if the clumps of flesh stuck in her hair was from them, or from her. At this moment in time, Hermione wanted nothing more than to put her face under the water and to instantly drown. But if she did that, she was sure that the lumps of burnt flesh from the others would only stick to her face, onto her mouth and onto her eyes.

It had been awful. She'd had to clean up over seventy chargrilled bodies on the floor, without using any magic. She'd had to carry them one by one and dump them into the flames of the fireplace, where they would burst into flames and disappear with a, '_whoosh_'. Then there had been the sweeping up of the ashes, the collecting of the bones, the scooping up of the flesh, and the mopping up of the blood. So, so, so, so much blood.

Hermione just couldn't take it anymore.

Draco had been wrong.

This wasn't going to get any better.

Quickly and determinedly, the forced herself under the boiling hot water.

When a pair of hands grabbed at her and pulled her up from under the water, she screamed, thinking that it was the remains of one of the burnt people, come out to get her,

'Hermione! Hermione! Shut up, it's me, it's me! Hermione, open your eyes!'

She did so, and was met with the blue eyes of Lucius Malfoy, stroking away the wet locks of her hair from her scarred face.

'H-he, he.' She began to stammer.

He shushed her. 'I know.' He said patiently. Carefully, he got her to put her arms around his neck and carried her out of the bath put her in a warm towel, before turning his back so that she could modestly wrap it around herself.

However, when he turned back, she was still naked and shivering, the towel lying forgotten by her side.

He sighed, not unkindly. 'Come here.'

Soothingly, Lucius wrapped the towel around her and sat her up in the armchair. With a pop, the bathwater and then the bathtub itself vanished.

'There.' He said soothingly. 'All gone.'

'I can still feel it.'

Lucius, the man who could worm himself out of any situation, had nothing to say.

'The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you.' He said eventually. 'Regarding your conversation with Draco last night.'

'I'm in trouble.' She said bitterly.

'Not necessarily.' Lucius persuaded. 'Draco asked him that he order the other Death Eaters to keep away from you, from now on. And the Dark Lord said that he would.'

Hermione looked up bewildered. 'He would?'

'He did.' Lucius said, trying to strike up a smile for her. 'He said so himself that he's getting bored of them making you cry. Perhaps things will really get better for you?'

His face looked so hopeful that Hermione didn't want to deny it. Instead, she let him think that she was an idiot by smiling as enthusiastically as he and allowing herself to go and dress herself for the Dark Lord's welcome.

He had to have something worse planned. He just had to. But what could be worse than what she'd already been through? Could things be alright? Was Draco right? Was his father right? Was there indeed a light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe they were moving on to a different location, going to fight in another country perhaps? They'd leave her behind at Malfoy Manor. Hermione had never thought that she would say this, but they'd all been as kind as they could be to her. Would they continue to be kind to her when he was gone? She could perhaps be moved out of this room and into Draco's old rooms, like he himself suggested. She could walk around outside again, even if it was under supervision. She could talk to people normally, without fear of being persecuted for it. She could ask to work alongside the House-Elves. To make dinners and to clean, normal things which would be helpful that she had actually missed doing, despite moaning about having to do them at the time when she was allowed to.

Perhaps she could even read?

These thoughts, these wonderful happy thoughts, had led Hermione up into an ecstasy by the time the Dark Lord arrived, and though she was sitting down by his feet, she was positively bouncing up and down in her head.

'You are thinking, happy things?' He commented.

Hermione, for once, wanted to keep him happy, and so chose her next answer carefully. 'I will think, what you wish me to think.'

He chuckled at that. 'You are not so willing as you make out. I may have broken you, but you're not that far gone as of yet.'

Hermione bit her lip, but said nothing.

'Draco tells me that he fears that you are losing your mind. If you were anybody else, I wouldn't mind, I would actually quite enjoy it, however, I feel that while this may cause some entertainment, it would mainly be detrimental to me and to everybody else who may have need of you at some point.' He then leaned forwards, so that their faces were practically touching. 'Now, miss mudblood, what would you like me to do with you?'

As she thought the words, 'set me free', she felt a sudden pain twisting at her insides.

'Apart from that.' Voldemort said, somewhat tetchily.

'I-I don't know.' She at last managed to confess honestly.

He raised an eyebrow at that. 'I never expected someone like you to say that as an answer. I'm disappointed. I would have expected more in you, girl.'

Hermione hung her head in shame.

'Would you like me to continue to give you to my Death Eaters?'

Mutely she shook her head.

'What was that now?'

Determinedly, she looked up. 'No.'

His face twisted into a far more malicious smile than she had ever seen before, and although Hermione knew that he would not do this again, she also realised that she should have chosen the other option.

'Good. In that case, my sweet, you will be all mine. No one, will be able to touch you apart from me. And make no mistake about it, I will. And I will be making up for the amount of loving caresses that you will no longer receive.'

And then laughing, he disappeared in a curl of black smoke.


	12. As they turn your dream to shame

Hermione Granger could not sleep. In truth, she was too frightened to go to sleep. Nightmares plagued her more than ever these days, and were even starting to when she was awake. The other factor was that her head was currently resting on the chest on the most evil man whom she had ever come across. Her ear was just above his heart, and yet she could feel no heartbeat, nor the constant rising in his chest as he breathed. She thought him dead at first, and would still have done had he not moved about in his sleep, occasionally murmuring dark curses, as if he was currently infiltrating other people's dreams.

She was still being kept in her cell, but it had been adapted so that it was fit for the Dark Lord to regularly view. The blankets in which they slept were a horrible green velvet. Nobody could ever understand why Hermione hated the feel of velvet, but it was because of the anticipation of accidently rubbing it the wrong way and getting the rough side of it. Also, they were horrible to sleep in as they made you so hot, and when the blanket got sweat on it, clumps of it stuck together to make little spiky bits on the tip, so that it was like trying to fall asleep on a porcupine in some places. But these things had to be done, because the Dark Lord refused to spend time in a place that was more like a prison than what he was used to. Why he spent most of his time in here she did not know. Well, she did know. She knew full all too well why he came in here, but why he wanted to do that so often, in particular with her, she did not know. It had now been three months or so in this arrangement and Hermione had still not grown used to it.

True, the Death Eaters could no longer touch her, and she felt so glad for it, but this only meant that she had to spend more time with Lord Voldemort. And therefore, more time with the body of the dead Ron Weasley. She had not grown used to this either. Her love and friend had become a blackmailing tool for her, and while in the first few weeks of her captivity, she used to imagine him to become hopeful and cheerful; she now couldn't wait for him to leave.

She couldn't wait for him to leave either.

As if hearing her, his eyes suddenly popped open and he was awake.

Gingerly, Hermione shifted away from him, as was the norm, and lay back onto her own pillow. Lord Voldemort smiled at her obedience and propped himself up onto one elbow, presumably to get a better look at her.

And how she had changed over these past four months. Her once blondish waves had turned into long dark brown curls, her hazel eyes had dulled to so brown that they were nearly black, and her tanned skin had gotten near silvery pale. The sun was gone from Hermione Granger.

'I was thinking, my love.' Voldemort said lazily, stroking from up her thigh to her stomach with a long white finger.

'Of?' She enquired, bored of his games.

'Of what shall we do about this little rounded belly of yours?'


	13. He slept a summer by my side

**PotterwatchMachine - Thank you for praising my writing! And I am also pleased that you want to know what will happen, all good things come to those who wait.**

**Lucifera Malfoy - Thank you so much for all your constant reviews! It kept me writing! No, sadly this will not turn into a Dramione fiction, Draco is caring and he's going to stay that way, but ultimately this is still very much a love story about Hermione and Ron. **

**Gabby0515 - Yes she's pregnant! And ooh that's the question, you will find out more in times to come. **

**Sachmet - Yes I decided to make the Malfoy's a bit more human this time. They're so far in, and they don't know how to get out. Voldie is really evil, but I hope to do Another FanFiction after this that can question all of that!**

**Pumpkinpatch212 - Hopefully now it will turn into a story yes! Haha xx**

**Thank you everyone for your kind reviews and for adding me to your Story Alerts etc. Etc.**

**Spread the word please! Thank you! Xx**

She was pregnant.

Lucius Malfoy waited outside awkwardly while his wife and a Healer tried to restrain the hysterical pregnant teenage girl in her new rooms. The Healer held onto her still reasonably slim waist, crying out for the baby's sake; Narcissa, on the other hand, stood in front of Hermione, grasping onto the girls hands.

'Hermione,' cried Narcissa, loudly and clearly, 'Hermione, please, try to calm down, Hermione? Hermione? Shh. Everything is going to be alright, Hermione? Hermione?'

But the girl would only continue to scream and to scream.

And Lucius could hardly blame her.

She was carrying The Dark Lord's Child.

After several more hours of this non-stop shrieking and crying, Lucius Malfoy was finally instructed by Lord Voldemort himself, to go in there and to knock her out with a spell.

When he entered the room, Narcissa wordlessly handed the quivering wreck to him, and after a quick spell and a shot of silver light at the side of her head, she collapsed into his arms. Carefully, he carried the limp body and laid her down onto the bed, putting her between the blankets and tucking her up himself as if she were a child still.

'When she awakens, let me know.' He ordered the Healer sharply. 'But keep her as drowsy as possible, do you understand?'

The Healer was a woman of about forty-five, matronly in her appearance, with a very red face, a plump body and a matt of frizzy grey hair. With her terrified expression, she oddly resembled a rabbit, and he took this as a yes.

When Lucius went back to the table, he hesitated. Usually he sat by his Master's right hand side. But now he felt wrong to do so. Instead, he casually took the seat by the Dark Lord's left. Thankfully, he did not notice this slight.

'How does my child?' He enquired, with all the etiquette of a concerned gentleman.

Again, Lucius considered his actions before he spoke. 'The baby is probably unharmed by that little outburst, but she should rest.'

Lord Voldemort tutted at his stupidity. 'I meant the girl. Not my son.'

For a flicker of a second, Lucius frowned slightly in surprise. 'She is asleep. I did as you requested, and now the Healer is under strict orders to keep her as drowsy as possible. It is unfair to you that you should have to hear her screaming at ungodly hours of the night.'

'It's alright. It's what I like to be used to after all.' His old masters face split into an evil grin as he licked his lips of the red wine that had spilled out of his mouth.

Lucius' stomach churned; however, wisely he did not say anything.

Later that evening as he was heading up to bed, his son cornered him in the corridor. Checking about him, he then spoke quickly in a furious whisper.

'How could you let this happen?'

Lucius stared at Draco, stunned. Never before had he seen such anger in the young boys face. His son had only ever looked at him with admiration, what had happened?

'You know perfectly well what.' Draco snapped, showing his talent for Legimancy like his mother. 'I cannot believe this. Why didn't you take any steps to prevent this from happening? There must have been some kind of spell that would have stopped her conceiving.'

Lucius felt just as livid now. 'How dare you blame all of this on me, boy.' He snapped. 'What was I supposed to do, really? What was I supposed to do? A baby is a blessing. This conversation has ended.'

Yet, as he made to go away, Draco put out his strong arm to block his father's path. 'Not an unwanted baby.' He snarled. 'An unwanted baby is never a blessing.'

'The baby is not unwanted. He is delighted.'

'And she?'

'She cannot have an opinion.'

'She is a human being.'

'She is a mudblood.' Lucius stopped himself from yelling, and checked both ends down the corridor in case anyone was coming up. 'Or have you forgotten that?'

Draco's arm moved and Lucius strode past, angry that his son had dared to defy him. They had never fought before. Never.

'She is a young girl.' The son said; his back to his father. 'Or have you forgotten that?'

Hermione woke with a heavy head. Tucked up in the clean crisp white sheets with an unfamiliar scent, she wondered where she was. Not the Gryffindor Dormitories, not in the tent, not in her own room, and not in The Burrow. So, where else could she be?

As if hearing her thoughts, a previously unseen woman in her forties stepped over her. With her frizzy prematurely grey hair, dusting of freckles on her nose, warm brown eyes and a kindly expression, Hermione immediately liked and trusted the woman.

'Hush now, love.' She said, in a voice as sweet as she. 'I'm a Healer. Healer Margaret, come to take care of you, ok sweet-pea?'

Mutely, Hermione nodded. Why couldn't she speak?

'Your blood levels are back and good up ok right now.' She said happily, leaning forwards to place a cool hand on Hermione's burning forehead, as she almost lovingly and motherly stroked her hair.

Hermione smiled serenely back at her.

'You're getting on just splendidly. The baby too in fact, dear.'

Baby?

The Baby.

Oh God, no, The Baby.

Desperately, Hermione tried to sit up, tears springing to her eyes. She tried to cry out, but realised that she could make no sound, a Silencing Charm had been put on her.

However, as if hearing the silent disruption of the bed creaking, Lucius Malfoy strode purposefully through the door again, a worried Narcissa panting and a few paces behind. Expressionlessly, he pointed his wand at Hermione, and she fell back into bed as if bound by her new drowsiness. It was only then did his cold eyes transfer furiously to that of the anxious Healer.

'Did I not tell you to keep her calm?' He asked quietly. 'Did I not tell you not to distress her?'

'I had to tell her that she was expecting.' She squeaked.

'If I had things my way, she would not know that she was even expecting at all.' Lucius swore icily. 'It's not exactly a pleasant situation for her now, is it?'

Narcissa placed a soothing hand on her husband's arm, to stop him from carrying on. The girl was watching them, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

'He is pleased with you.' Lucius said simply. Then, having nothing more to say, he spun on his heel and turned swiftly away to the exit, his black cloak swinging out behind him.

Narcissa rushed anxiously to the girl's side and sat on the bed as she held onto her small childlike hands. 'Every baby is a blessing.' She promised her, the words getting stuck in her throat.

When Lucius had left the room, the Silencing Charm had been lifted and Hermione had found her voice. 'Not every baby is.' She said bitterly. 'Not this time. This, this, monster.' Her hands moved away from her slightly swollen belly, almost as if she wanted nothing more to do with it. However, Narcissa firmly grasped her hands again. 'Hermione'. She said, with more honesty than Hermione had ever witnessed in over four months. 'Trust me. Every baby is a blessing. Do you think that a baby is born like its parents? No, a baby is born an innocent. Any baby. No characteristics, no qualities, no flaws. Whatever we may say at birth, a baby only develops those things when taught them. You are to raise this baby. Are you telling me, that under your guidance, your baby will still grow into a monster?'

Hermione said nothing.

Patiently, Narcissa moved Hermione's hands on top of her belly. 'Feel it, Hermione.' She whispered. 'There is life growing within you.'

Hermione began to cry again.

She continued to lay propped up on the pillows when Lord Voldemort entered. His snakelike grin was triumphant as he looked at the sight of the cowering young girl, with her hands clasped over a growing belly that carried so much promise.

In what could have been considered a tender gesture, he swept down and kissed her stomach. Then, looking up at a fearful Hermione, he hissed, 'mine'.

However, when he went to kiss her pouting lips, she rudely turned her head away from him.

A sharp stinging pain on her face told her that he had slapped her.

'Foolish girl.' He continued to hiss vehemently. 'Think yourself lucky that I cannot harm you for as long as my child is in there. How long?' He suddenly demanded as he turned and confronted the terrified Healer.

'Six months.' She gasped as she stammered.

Voldemort scowled. 'Six months too long. If I have to, I will get the baby out early. 'Till then, count your lucky stars that you conceived. You would have been met with a very displeased Lord if you hadn't.'


	14. He filled my days with endless wonder

**Sachmet - I hope that hard is a positive word? Haha I am glad that you love Narcissa too. xx**

**PotterwatchMachine - Thank you so so so so much for your very long review! I really do mean it too! Your feedback was greatly appreciated, yes I will work a lot more on description, I do acknowledge that it is not my strongest point! Haha. Please do write that kind of review length in the future! Heehee. Your opinion is greatly valued. xx**

**Sweet-tang-honney - Well, here you go! Haha. Xx**

_POTTER'S EX-GIRLFRIEND IS PREGNANT BY THE DARK LORD!_

_Your Daily Prophet reporter, me, Rita Skeeter, was frankly stunned when she heard the news that the next ladder on the rise to power for Miss Hermione Granger, was to fall pregnant with the Dark Lord's Child. We always knew that she had a taste for the famous Quidditch Players, Victor Krum and obviously, Mr. Harry Potter himself; however, I am sure, dear readers, that you were as oblivious as me to her new liaisons. _

'_Oh yes, they've been together for quite a while now.' Says my new protégé in writing, the stunningly gorgeous Pansy Parkinson. 'She's bitten off more than she can chew now, however. The Dark Lord is far more powerful than Harry Potter ever was, and Krum too. I personally believe that she has come to the end of her greedy climbing.' _

_As for the reaction to the eventual birth of the child? _

'_The Dark Lord is thrilled.' Says the charmingly silver, Nott, smoothly, outside Malfoy Manor where they are all staying as they celebrate in the aftermath of their Victory. Surprisingly, Lucius Malfoy himself declined to comment on the case. _

_So, while we all may love to hate Miss Granger and her schemes, let us all raise our glass in a toast of celebration to the Dark Lord and his unborn child. Hopefully this news will be a kick in the teeth for all of those who believe that she was the only hope behind the Pro-Potter Movement?_

_Hermione sighed as she pushed away the newspaper, the photograph of Rita Skeeter twirling and laughing maliciously at her, the other hand rested on her swollen baby bump. _

_There was a gentle kiss on her cheek, and she leaned back appreciatively, hoping for more. _

'_Hey.' Came the calm, soothing voice of Ronald Weasley. _

'_Hey.' She murmured softly back. _

'_What you reading?' He asked, draping his arm over her shoulders, as he rested his chin on the top of her head. _

_They were in their own yellow kitchen, the morning light from the French Windows, lighting on the pair and on the drawings and finger paintings up on the walls, done by their nephew and godson, little James Potter. She was seated at the breakfast bar, atop one of their very high orange barstools. Comfortingly, Ron nuzzled into her neck. _

'_Oh, just Rita Skeeter.' She said, trying to sound casual as she pushed the offensive article away. _

_Ron, however, frowned slightly, as he leaned over his wife to get it. 'Hermione's missed her chance.' He read aloud. _

_Yours truly, Rita Skeeter, is always in the know of who's who in celebrityville, and at the moment it is none other than the famous Quidditch Player, Cormac McLaggen. Those of you who have not heard of him, where on Earth have you been? He may not be playing for any team yet, but his father has a fantastic good-sized wallet. I sat him, and his devilishly good looks, down in my office to discuss what you, my loyal readers, are simply dying to know about, his love life. _

'_Well, to tell you the honest truth, my confidence has been knocked down a little.' He confesses shyly to me, with those heartbreaking brown eyes of his. 'I was going out with a girl who I really liked, but the next thing I knew, she is off with some other guy.' _

_And this girl is none other than Miss Hermione Granger and the guy Mr. Ronald Weasley, who celebrated their marriage two years before. _

_Hermione certainly has a thing for Quidditch Players; Harry Potter, Victor Krum, Cormac McLaggen, and now Ronald Weasley, who plays Keeper as a Hobby, and who Potter foolishly elected for the role, over poor dear Cormac McLaggen, for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. _

'_Sure, Ron won some games for us.' Cormac admits modestly, (such a polite and handsome boy!), 'but ultimately, I was always the better player.' _

_Cormac must then love me and leave me, as he begins his new book tour, rumoured to have an estimated income of over 3,million galleons! As he strides away, I wonder if fat and pregnant Mrs. Hermione Weasley is regretting the choice to leave, International Star, Cormac McLaggen, standing alone underneath the mistletoe. _

_Buy Cormac's Book, 'The Amazing Me', in stores today!_

_Ron snorted. 'Turd.' _

'_Ron.' His wife said reprovingly, though feeling a burst of pride in her husband's ability to shrug it off. _

'_I mean, come on, what's this?' Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'Fat and pregnant? You're not pregnant. Hey-' He laughed as she swatted him with another rolled up newspaper. 'Think nothing of it, Hermione. She's got noting better to do.' Happily, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders again, and she breathed in that familiar smell of the great outdoors on his jumper. 'She is envious of us and our idealic setting, ok?' He kissed the top of her head again and he lovingly stroked her tangle of brown curls. _

'_Ok.'_

'_Ok.' He sounded brighter now. 'Now, I'm hungry. You wait your pregnant-self there, and I'll make us some dinner.' _

_Hermione laughed as he disappeared for a moment, and then returned wearing a chef's hat and apron. 'Are you looking forward to being a daddy?' She wanted to know, as she leaned over the breakfast bar, taking, and biting into an apple, as she watched him break two eggs into a bowl. _

_Ron smiled, his whole face lighting up enthusiastically. 'You know? I really am. I'm so excited. And ready too, yeah, for once, I am finally ready for it.' _

'_It'll be a lot of work.' Hermione warned._

_Ron grinned. 'You know as well as I do, that nothing in this life is worth having, if it comes too easy.'_

Over five thousand miles away, in a different reality, Hermione Granger patted her six month pregnancy belly as she sat alone in her bedroom. Finally, she had been allowed a window, and in a fit of hormones, she had decided to place a candle in the windowsill. No one but her, knew that it was for Harry or Ron to light them the way home. As her belly had grown, so had her memories of Ron. But just now, she had seen something else.

'Yes.' She whispered. 'That was how it was supposed to have been.'


	15. He took my childhood in his stride

**Kraco - thank you very much for your review! xx**

**Sachmet - And yes, I guess that I do see your point now! Wow, you're German, I think that it's great that you're making an effort to learn another language! I took GCSE German, but I'm sadly just not a very talented linguist. I wish that I could speak loads of different languages though. xx**

**PotterwatchMachine - OHMYGOODNESS I LOVE YOU AND YOUR LONG REVIEWS! Eeek, they made me so very happy to read! Yes, the last Chapter was a little confusing, but I wanted the reader to jump back a little bit when they changed, it's kind of a reference to how Hermione is feeling and thinking at the moment. Yes I got an A! GET IN! And I just LOVED writing as Rita Skeeter, she's such a babe to write in the style of, but I'm not sure if I can get her in this story again - maybe another one even? And the Cormac part was fun to write too, we all know that twat who thinks that they are the bees knees and would probably pay for the world to believe it too. Thank you so much for all of your support! It was so very lovely and kind to read! xx**

_Hermione's heart was pounding underneath her thin nightie. Determinedly, she strode ahead of the boys, her hand grasped around her wand, her heavy breathing making a little cloud of air as she walked. All around them, children were crying, men were yelling, women were screaming, and the hooded figures were jeering. Still, she managed to keep a steady mind on their instructions to get out of there, until she heard a painful yell. _

_Her and Harry both turned quickly on their heels in horror, fully expecting to see one of the masked figures, with their wands out. However, instead they saw Ron, his jeans dirty and ripped, lying on the forest floor with a sheepish look on his face. _

'_Tripped over a tree root.' He said angrily, as he got up and examined a cut on the palm of his hand. _

_Hermione was about to come back with a sharp retort, but in the end she didn't have to. Only a few feet away from them came a horribly familiar drawling voice. _

'_Well, with feet that size, hard not too.'_

_Hermione, Ron and Harry turned sharply to see Draco Malfoy casually leaning against a tree wearing a smug smile as he watched them with his arms folded. Hermione pulled her coat more over her nightie. Oddly enough, while they were all in their pyjamas, Draco was fully dressed in his usual black attire. Yet, the boys did not seem to pick up on this small questioning detail. Instead, Ron took all of his energy to scowl and say menacingly. 'Fuck off, Malfoy.' _

_Draco sniggered. 'Language, Weasley. Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like __**her **__spotted, would you?'_

_In turn, pairs of grey, brown and green turned to look at her. She swallowed and folded her arms in front of her chest defensively, trying to ignore the frantic beating of her heart out of fear. 'What's that supposed to mean?' She challenged, although she already knew. _

_Malfoy turned his attention to her; a rare thing seeing as he usually chose to insult her directly to the boys, by way of making them rise to the bait for a fight. 'Granger, they're after __**Muggles**__.' He laughed coldly. 'D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way and it would give us all a laugh.' As discreetly as a snake, he licked his bottom lip. _

'_You're despicable.' Hermione whispered contemptuously, as Harry stepped forwards in front of her, his arm shielding her from Draco's gaze. _

'_Hermione's a witch.' He snarled. _

_Draco tore his gaze away from the now slightly trembling Hermione, as he smiled maliciously. 'Have it your way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.'_

_Ron had previously been staring at his two friends, with a curious look in his eye, and now he lunged forwards in front of Hermione like Harry had done and shouted, 'you watch your mouth!'_

_Knowing that they would be outnumbered 100 to 3 if a fight was started, what with the figures in cloaks roaming around that undoubtedly included Malfoy's father, and maybe even his mother, Hermione placed her gentle hands around the boy's forearms; just as there was a large bang and a terrifying scream. Hermione jumped again nervously, and Harry calmly placed his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Ron adopted that same odd look again, one that Hermione just couldn't place. _

_It was only when Harry started to make a lunge towards Malfoy, was she drawn out of her thoughts and into her senses. 'Oh, come on.' She snapped, tugging hard onto the sleeve of Harry's jacket, as she threw a contemptuous and disgusted look at Malfoy. 'Let's go and find the others.' _

_The boys looked ready to reconsider, thinking of Fred, George and Ginny who were now all probably lost from them. They were about to turn and leave until Malfoy sneered. 'Keep that big bushy head down, Granger.' _

'_Come __**on**__.' Hermione repeated, surprising herself with her own strength as she tugged the two boys away. _

_For the rest of the night, Ron continued to look at her worriedly, and Harry kept a protective arm around her waist, his eyes sharply looking through the night's forest, as if expecting at any moment, one of the masked figures to come forward and to try and snatch her. Their concern for her safety wouldn't have been so bad, had it not been for the fact that that was what she was currently worried about too._

'God, I was such a dick.'

Hermione opened her eyes. She was in her newish room, propped up on many pillows in her bed, and her hands as far away from her growing belly as possible. In the corner of the room, Draco Malfoy sat in the wooden chair, his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forwards to get a better look at her.

She didn't say anything and he laughed.

'Thank you for defending me there, Hermione.'

Her nose twitched at that. 'You never call me Hermione.'

'I do now.'

'What's changed?'

'I'm not a dick; I thought that we had discussed this?'

'What's changed?'

Draco sighed and leaned back in the chair, his long blonde fringe flopping into his blue eyes. She realised that he'd decided not to answer her, and from _his_ mind-reading skills, she honestly couldn't blame him.

They were seated in silence for a few more minutes, Draco casually twiddling his thumbs, and playing with the ornate rings on his fingers, confused as to whether or not to keep them on or off.

'Were you spying on my thoughts?' Hermione asked suddenly.

Draco looked up in surprise, his face adopting an expression of hurt as she looked challengingly at him. 'Wh-why? What would make you say that? I mean, I-'

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

With a wry grin, Draco held up his hands in defence. 'It's not the reasons why you think it is.'

'Oh, isn't it?' She snapped scathingly, pulling up the blankets to cover her. She didn't like the idea that he'd been sneaking into her mind, much less the idea that he'd been watching her sleep.

'Look.' He said patiently, his blue eyes boring into her cynical brown ones. 'You haven't had a proper nights sleep in months, not since you got pregnant, not since I came here.'

'So?'

'So.' He breathed out as he closed his eyes, clearly repressing a sharp insulting retort that his younger self would have given out in an instant. 'I've been trying to make you sleep better.'

'By watching me sleep? Wow, Malfoy. Knowing that someone is watching you while you sleep; is encouraging.'

'Well it should be!' He said defiantly, looking up at her earnestly. 'I mean, think about it, Hermione, who has been stopping you from sleeping?'

She didn't answer, but her lack of response showed him that she knew.

'And what has he been doing?'

Again, she said nothing, choosing instead to focus all of her attention on the green throw on her bed. The silk tassels felt funny between her fingers, but it gave her something to do, rather than having to listen to him.

'Look, you've been exhausted, and because of these nightmares it's no wonder why you don't sleep. You might think that there's something sinister in what I'm doing, but it's nothing of the sort. Yes, I've been going into your head. But not to create things like _he's_ been doing. I've been taking them out of your head and been putting them into mine.'

Hermione looked up sharply. 'What?' She breathed.

Draco hung his head slightly as he shrugged, seemingly losing his old arrogance. 'I've been taking the horrors that he's created for you, and been putting them into my head instead. They've got to go somewhere, and it's better my head than yours.'

Hermione was quiet. For once in her life she genuinely couldn't think of anything to say. Never before had she expected to feel touched by Draco Malfoy. 'Thank you.' She said, after a while. 'Thank you, Draco.'

He looked slightly pleased, but shrugged it off. 'It's nothing.'

'They're horrible nightmares. Nobody should have to look at them. Can't you block them?'

'Block them and they go back into your head. I invade your mind and take what _he_ gives you instead. I don't think that _he_ has even noticed. This way, you can dream what you want. Although, sometimes I accidently have sneak peaks.' He grinned slightly, to himself.

Hermione flushed angrily. 'And what have you seen?' She demanded.

'Nothing bad.' He laughed. 'Although now that you're getting that defensive with me, I'm wondering what's in there! No, no these are just cute little memories. Flashes of, _before_.' He finished lamely.

Hermione swallowed and turned her attention back to the green tassels.

'I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly, I am.'

Several minutes passed before she finally had the strength to look back up at him. But when she finally did so, he had gone.

Her next awakening was not nearly as pleasant. Lord Voldemort had a vicer like grip on her forearm, and was dragging her out of bed. As her body left the warm sheets and hit the cold air of the room, she gave out a cry.

'Shut it.' He hissed.

He seemed so angry, that Hermione genuinely thought that it was the end of it all, despite her large belly. She began to cry as he had a hurried conversation with someone else next to him. They were dressed in their usual Death Eater uniform, and despite the fact that she couldn't see the face, for the mask, she could tell by their very body language that they were uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort flung Hermione to the stone floor. As she fell, she cut her knees in the process, but before she had time to acknowledge it, his hand was around her face, forcing her to look up at him. They were noses apart.

'Listen here, you little brat.' He hissed again, venomously. 'So people, idiots, fools, whatever you want to call them, are under the impression that they could run the Ministry better than I ever could. I told you that they were dim. Now, listen, they say that they fight in the name of _that boy_', he spat the name filled with so much hatred, that Hermione didn't even have to consider as to who he meant, 'and are currently looking to you as one of the last of his companions to lead the way in the fight against me. But there's just one problem, isn't there?' He placed a cruel hand on her stomach. 'You belong to me.'

His eyes were pouring into hers, and she stopped struggling against him. When he continued, he was far more calm.

'We're going to go out there, onto the balcony, underneath which, by the gates, the rebels have all foolishly gathered for a fight. I'm going to show you to them, they will then realise that they have a lost cause and will go home. I will let them. I am a merciful Lord. And while you are up there with me,' his grip around her cheeks tightened, 'you will smile and wave and be happy. Is that, quite clear, Miss Mudblood?'

Trembling, Hermione nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Satisfied, he let go, only to end up then dragging her out of the room. Now that she was finally out of those four walls, she grew bold, and began to struggle against him. He pulled her by the hair, her arms, and finally by the waist in order to get her up to the balcony in front of what seemed to be thousands of people, all staring in hatred up at their new Minister of Magic.

'I present to you the girl you all thought was your friend.' He bellowed to them, as Hermione wept, unable to protest now, she was so distraught. 'If she can accept the new regime change, then why can't you?'

All that distance away, they would not be able to see the tears on her cheeks, Hermione realised. Would they even recognize her? They would have to take his word for it. They would believe him over her unless she did something. At the gates, Hermione was convinced that she saw two glittering emeralds from somewhere amongst the large crowd, towards the front. She felt courage again. And with this courage, she managed to find the energy to scream out. 'Help me! Help me!'

With a low scream of rage, Voldemort grabbed her again by the scruff of the neck and dragged her back off the balcony through the double doors, just as there were the beginning shouts of a riot.

'You stupid girl! You stupid girl!' He cried, pulling her along the corridors once more. 'You have been a fool, you could have had everything.' The reached her bedroom, and with surprising strength, he flung the pregnant girl onto it, none-too-gently. 'You could have been treated with kindness, with compassion. You could have been allowed out of this room to roam The Manor as you pleased. But no, you have now ruined your chance.' Without even needing a wand, Lord Voldemort caused a long, thick, silver chair to move up from the bedpost and to snake its way over to bind itself around Hermione's thin wrist. She screamed as she tried to pull away, but found that it held her quite tightly. Voldemort swooped down once more and held onto her face in that old familiar grip of his. 'You are not leaving this room until my son is born. And once he is born, you are conceiving another.' Hermione's tears spilled down onto his hand, but he didn't even seem to notice and to feel them. 'And another, for as many as I shall be pleased with. You are stuck here, Miss Mudblood. You are stuck here. Now, stop weeping. It is time for you to grow up!'

And with that, he left in a puff of black smoke, leaving Hermione to cry, and to cry.


	16. But he was gone when autumn came

**Adalis - Damn. My first bad review. I think that what you don't like about my Hermione is that she cries. A lot. So I'll change that. But because your criticism was just that, (criticism), and not in any way constructive, I'm not sure. But at the same time, I'm not going to have her, 'suck it up', and, 'deal with what life has handed', her. Because if you have a shit life, then that's harder than it looks. Still, thanks for, 'trying', to like it anyhow. Any feedback, within reason, is welcome to me, and I'm pleased that you tried to carry on - evidently there must have been SOMETHING that you liked? (Oh and just addressing the retort early on, I'm not getting, 'defensive', I'm just expressing an opinion as are you). xx**

**Sweet-tang-honney - Thank you. I MUCH preferred reading your review. Xx**

**Sachmet - Oooh, give your reviews partly in German from now on and I will see if I can translate! Heehe. I really want to speak French, Russian and Japanese myself! But a bit of Spanish wouldn't go amiss! I'm glad that you think that Hermione is brave. Xx**

**WonderG-101 - Eeee! Your review like MADE my night. EEEE! Xx**

**Ikuni Hattori - Eeee! And ooh thank you! Here you go! xx **

**mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura - Thank you! Xx**

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath.

A cry of pain.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath.

A cry of pain.

His body falls to the floor with a thud.

A flash of green light and the light dies from his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath.

A cry of pain.

His body falls to the floor with a thud.

He is dead.

Narcissa knew the symptoms. The lying there without talking. Or when she did, she spoke lower and slower, as if it were hard to string a sentence together. She no longer looked you in the eye, they didn't seem to be able to focus that way. The constant waking in the night. The unexplained aches and pains, that were completely separate from the symptoms of her pregnancy.

Narcissa knew the symptoms far to well. They'd grown to be quite common within her family. Eventually, worry took her to the Dark Lord himself.

'You said to look after your child, yes?'

Lord Voldemort was seated in his usual throne, and looked up from his conversation in surprise. Never had been addressed such. 'Yes.' He responded, clearly mildly amused at her clenched fists and her determined gaze juxtaposed with her anxious fidgeting.

'So, that means looking after the mother's health, yes?'

'Yes.' The amusement was wearing off.

'We're looking after her physical health. But what about her mental health?'

The room went quiet, everyone looking up to see what punishment that he would give her. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. 'Continue.'

'You've tortured her for long enough.' Narcissa said hotly, foolishly clasping onto her wand that was hidden up her sleeve. 'I know that she is being punished. I know. But think of the baby. If there is something wrong with her mind, then the baby may get infected to.' Her language was blunt, but there was no way of putting this otherwise that would make him give her what she wanted.

'I've stopped sending her nightmares.' He pointed out. 'And I haven't _touched_ her in the longest time. Nobody has.'

A few Death Eaters sniggered.

Narcissa ignored them. 'For that, she surely gives you thanks. But I am begging you, for some other form of relief. Some form of amusement. My son used to tell me how she loved reading. Perhaps she still does? Please, allow her to have a book. Any book, one of your choosing. Just give her something to do.'

Narcissa bit her lip as Lord Voldemort leaned back in his chair, considering. After a few agonising moments of him scanning her face intently, he finally summoned her forwards and created a book out of thin air.

'If this comes back to haunt me,' he warned, handing it over.

Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. 'Of course. Thank you. Thank you.'

However, as she went to take it, he grabbed into one of her wrists and pulled her forwards, so that their faces were inches apart.

'Have you, grown fond of the girl?'

Shit.

'I think only of your child.' She lied smoothly, after a fashion. 'I was raised to hate mudbloods, but I tolerate this one to please you.'

He let her go. Yet, as she walked swiftly down the hall, many pairs of eyes still following her suspiciously as she clasped the book, Lord Voldemort called out. 'And don't forget, Narcissa. When you address me, you call me, My Lord.'

Narcissa paused, her hand on the doorframe, the other holding onto the book and onto the crease of her skirts. She tilted her head back so that he would know that she had heard, but went no further that meant that she would have to look into his eyes.

'Of course.' She responded loudly. 'My Lord.'

And left quickly before there could be anything else said.

When she gave her the book, she was hesitant.

When she read the book, she struggled.

When she read the book, none of the old enjoyment glossed over her face as it used to.

When she was asked if she enjoyed the book, she felt guilty because she hadn't.

When she was asked why, she became tearful.

When she was asked why again, she said that she wasn't clever enough to read it.

When she was asked if she wanted another one, she bit her lip and couldn't make a decision.

Narcissa was too late.

Sometimes, when Hermione didn't mean to, she found herself with her hand resting on her protruding belly. She was in her seventh month now and could no longer see her feet, and desperately wanting it all to be over and done with. This baby had made a mockery out of her dreams. It was an insult to the children who she was going to have, but now could not.

Idly, she began to stroke at the stretched skin, exposed in her partially unbuttoned shirt robe, and soon, this occasional stroking had turned into clawing, as if this might actually work in bringing the baby out. It began with thin white grazes, that eventually turned into scarlet slits that were horrifically reminiscent of _his_ eyes; she began to scratch at the cuts, trying to turn them into something else, something that was not remotely like he was watching her even still. Blood trickled down her belly and sunk onto the crisp white sheets, and her dried blood began to crust brown underneath her nails. Hermione tore and tore at her flesh, scarcely noticing the pain, she felt so possessed to get the baby somehow; and it was only a crash of thunder that made her stop and jump out of her skin, as the baby kicked.

'Ha.' She felt that it said, taunting her. 'Ha. I'm still here.'

But just as she was about to start attacking her belly again, her heart jolted suddenly.

The baby had kicked.

Babies were usually detected as moving a lot sooner than this, but for Hermione, surprisingly it was the first time. Until that moment, she had been unconcerned in its process, just seeing the Dark Lord's Child as just that. Evil. She honestly couldn't have cared less if it had died in there. And she thought that it was probably for the best if it was stillborn anyway. But now?

Well, now, Hermione felt, different. Changed, even. Now she felt an overwhelming sense of mothering and maternal protection. When there was another crash of lightening and then thunder, the baby kicked again, and cocking her head to one side slightly, Hermione whispered. 'Are you frightened?'

There was a pause, and then the baby moved again.

Blushing slightly, because she felt foolish, Hermione whispered again. 'Don't be. It's not as scary as it seems, and you're all protected in here anyway.'

The baby moved again, more softly this time, but as Hermione began to relax, there was yet another crash of thunder and lightening, and the baby moved far more frantically this time. 'H-hey.' Hermione swallowed awkwardly. 'H-hey. Shh. It' ok.' Hermione bit her lip; she'd never had to soothe a baby before, much less an unborn one. 'Hey, hey, hey? Hey? Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it feel better.' She stopped. She'd never felt fully confident in her singing. The baby had begun to slow down too. Until there was another roar of thunder from outside again. 'Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were made to go out and get her, the minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.' Soon, the storm had ceased, and so had the frantic kicking of the baby. Hermione sat there in silence for quite some time, before she finally said aloud. 'You know, my father's name is Jude.'

The baby did not move, but Hermione felt that she knew that she or he was listening.

'My mum used to sing it to me when I was a baby, and my dad used to sing Lucy in the sky with the diamonds - just to get on her nerves. He was only teasing. My mum's called Lucy, you see.' It felt oddly comforting to talk about her parents. She had not mentioned their names in over a year. Anyone would think that she'd forgotten all about them, as they had with her. 'Every Friday,' she continued softly, 'when dad would come home from work, he'd bring me and mum a present. It could be anything too. One day, he turned up with an expensive china doll for me, and for mum a television for the kitchen. But then sometimes, on other days he'd turn up with a stone that he thought was a pretty colour. I've still got them all, in a box in my old room.' She swallowed, tears treacherously threatening to spill down her face. However, now that she had started, she found that she couldn't stop. 'We lived in a really nice house. I've always loved it. Nice stone walls, not ones like here that are all smooth, ones that had really aged. And every time one of these stones fell out, Mum would make a little hidey-hole and fill it with books or other random things. Usually her watercolours or her sewing. She loved to make patchwork quilts, if she knew that you were coming, then you would have so many round about now. Dad was obsessed with the stars. That's why he really wanted me to study Astrology. He argued that I was having a golden opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, and that I should take it - even if it was just to teach him everything afterwards. Which I did. He grew as wise as a centaur in his opinion, having to hold his tongue every time one of his friends boasted that they could see more stars from their telescope, rather than his little one that he borrowed off of his schoolgirl daughter.' She laughed slightly, remembering her Dad's somewhat pompous friends, dressed in their grey tweed suits and smoking cigars. Thank God that her Dad never smoked like they did. They were nice enough to her, but she gagged at the smell of them sometimes. 'How little that they knew.' Hermione paused, this next part was difficult, the words weren't quite forming on her tongue. 'You know, I haven't ever really told anyone this before. Nobody has ever really asked. Ron just moans about his family, and I don't want to be in competition with him - which is what he would turn it into! And Harry, he would feel so bitter about it. Don't get me wrong, he'd never say so in a million years, but when Ron talks about cursing his brothers and picking fights with them and his parents, I see such resentment in Harry's eyes. 'You don't know what you've got,' they seem to say. To tell him about my golden family would really just be flaunting it in his face, wouldn't it?' Hermione was quiet for a while, before she gave a sudden gasp. _She was speaking about them in the present tense!_ Hurriedly, before she could give way to tears, Hermione carried on speaking, falling into another topic that would surely make her cry. 'My parents are still alive, you know. But they, they don't know who I am. If I ever got out of here, and found them, then they wouldn't know me at all. I modified my parent's memories. I couldn't have what happened to me, happen to them. They knew too much. They'd be seen as a threat, a source of information, a way of getting to me, and therefore to Harry.' She swallowed again at the sound of the name. 'And so, I changed their identities. They look different. I made them dead ringers for Jenifer Aniston and David Schwimmer. They'd have liked that. They always admired them, and said that their romance on Friends was one of the greatest - _I got off the plane_ - and all that. But I didn't stop there. I changed their memories. I changed their locations - Australia, as far away from them as possible. If they guessed anywhere, then they would have guessed France to go hunting for them, seeing as we spent so much time there. A simple memory charm would have revealed everything. I used to love going to France. My parents said that I went to a French Boarding School out there, rather than pretending to go to an English one and to get caught out. It gave my Dad something more to boast about in the surgery office. That's why we went there on Holiday, so many times, for me to continue to practise my language in it, so that we could fool _anyone_. My parents are fluent in French too. So here's the thing, here's another reason why I didn't send them out to France. I changed them. I changed them, so that they cannot speak French anymore. My Dad doesn't stargaze; my Mum doesn't make patchwork quilts. They don't work in dentistry. And they prefer television to reading. Know why? It's not because I wanted to protect their identities. It's a far more selfish reason than that. I just, I couldn't bear the thought of _them_ being out there, as _themselves_. Underneath a different look, new name and new location, they would still be my parents. And I just hated that. They would go on living, still really as Jude and Lucy Granger, but they would have no daughter, Hermione Granger. Our trio would be gone. It's better to have two people out there, who have the same organs as my parents, living a different life in which they do not know me, because I don't know them, rather than for me to be longing for them, out there in Australia. This way, I can still believe; that we three are all still sitting in front of the fire at home, reading.'

Obviously, the baby said nothing.

'I don't know how I feel about you.' Hermione said truthfully. 'I used to hate you, but now I'm not so sure. I mean, I have every right to hate you. Don't I? It's not you, personally, I guess, you haven't even been born yet. It's your genetics that I hate. What you represent, I hate that because of this, you may hate me too. It's not your fault really. It's just unfortunate that you got picked for this job, eh?' Fondly, Hermione cracked a brave smile, and gently stroked her belly, as if she was trying to touch her baby's head. Yet, after a few moments, she recoiled, unnerved. 'What if, when I look at you, all I can see, is _him_? Worse yet, what if you grow to be like _him_? No. I just couldn't stand it. I am sorry if I end up hating you, truly, I am.'

The storm outside was ending as quickly as it had begun. But now, instead of the roar of thunder, there was a roar of another kind. And instead of brief flashes of silver, there were angry flashes of green and red. Hermione hesitated - _what the hell was that_?

Her door was suddenly flung open, and there leaned a panting Lucius Malfoy, his blonde hair dishevelled in front of his face, quickly, he pushed it out of his grey-blue eyes and strode towards her, gripping Hermione by the arms, as he stared intently into her face.

'What do you know?' He asked.

When Hermione didn't say anything, he shook her.

'What do you know?' He asked again, more urgently this time.

'I don't, I-' Hermione stammered.

Satisfied, Lucius let go and paced his way over to the window. Swiftly, he shut the curtains and whispered a quick charm over them. 'Don't open these.' He instructed her, as he turned on his heel and walked towards her again, this time taking her small hands in his, and resting them on her swollen belly. 'You'll be safe if you stay in here, I promise.' Lucius told her gently.

Hermione didn't know what to say, anxiously she looked over towards the window from where she could hear shrieks and yells of pain.

'Hey,' Lucius said calmly, stroking her hair out of her face, in a surprisingly comforting gesture. 'Please, please don't worry. We can deal with them, for now. Please, just stay in here.'

Hermione momentarily raised an eyebrow. 'I'm chained, I-'

'I mean if someone tries to come and release you. Because they will. You'll want to move, I know, God, sometimes I feel better than anyone, but please, just stay in here. You will thank me for it eventually one day I know. Better to say in here and live, than to go out there and die. I know Death Eaters who won't hesitate to use you in their methods of winning this fight.'

As she spoke, her mouth felt dry. 'There's a fight going on?' Hermione whispered.

Lucius nodded gravely. 'A rebellion more like. It's only just beginning. The ones here now, they're fools. They've just joined up to a cause, that they don't really believe in, because they want to fight. They've ruined everything for the opposing side. Thank God for us.'

Outside, Hermione could hear some triumphant laughing, that was suddenly cut off by a sickening crunch.

'Stay inside.' Lucius begged. He stayed long enough to witness a quick, determined, yet reluctant, nod from her, before leaving, his wand clutched in his hand.

Awkwardly, Hermione waited. She'd sat in the room in silence for months now, this was nothing new. But what was new, was the waiting for news. The waiting for the triumphant side to crash through her bedroom door. Yet, which side that was, she did not know. To pass the time, Hermione spoke to her baby once again. 'However, then again, when you kicked just now, I - well, I felt, different. You're there. You're a baby. A flesh, bone and blood baby. And I just, I only just realised that you're you. That you haven't asked for any of this, haven't got any opinions in this Wizarding War, you're not even consciously involved in it anymore. Well, that I guess what I am trying to say, is that, when you kicked, I felt different. Because, I felt like a mother. Hello, my darling. I think that I am supposed to be your Mummy.'

By five o'clock or so, the fighting had died down. Literally. Narcissa had to fight the urge to hold her nose as some of the viler Death Eaters and other Dark Volunteers brought in their prey, to slowly decapitate in her own dinning room. She was intensely relieved when Lord Voldemort summoned her over with a cruel finger, and hissed in her ear, 'go to the girl. See how she is. Our triumph must have been her despair.'

And so, Narcissa found herself walking towards the corner of the Manor where they housed their guests. She thanked God that Hermione was no longer residing in the dungeons where she had been when they first brought her here, it was far too cold now for her to be going down there and talking to the girl whenever required to. Instead, Hermione was seated in one of the guest rooms attached to another. Lucius had had it built when they'd had the Minister to stay and he'd quietly suggested that he'd wanted to bring his whore. In case anyone found out about their liaison, she couldn't sleep in his room at night, and Narcissa flat out refused to have her in one of their real guest rooms. So Lucius, being a peacemaker, decided to make a small, but comfortable room for her. The door adjoining the two rooms had long been removed; Narcissa felt a sigh of relief at that. She could only shudder to imagine Hermione's reaction, that the man she most hated was pacing in the room next to hers. For, Narcissa was sure that he was pacing. She'd never seen him sleep. Not once, and if there was an urgent message for him delivered in all hours of the night, he would always be up and dressed. It was very odd. It was almost sinister.

Finally, Narcissa reached the old carved wooden door, and knocked cautiously. Normally, she would wait for a few moments before entering, uninvited, and would then stare pitifully at the silenced girl who would just lie there in a maddened quiet on the bed. However, this time, she was answered with a, 'Come in!' Narcissa paused outside the door, momentarily stunned. And yet, she couldn't make out the girls tone. Obviously, it wouldn't be joyful, but it had lost that sad flatness which she was so used to hearing, on the rare occasion that she actually spoke to her.

Gingerly, Narcissa opened the door carefully, and was left in stunned silence. Not only was she up, she was also making the bed - paying little attention to the silver chain wrapped around her right wrist which prevented her from going over to the other side in order to finish the job properly. Despite this seeming sense of normality, Narcissa could easily see that she was tense, and when the girl looked up at her, an intense look of relief flushed over Hermione's face. 'Oh, it's you.' She breathed out thankfully, brushing aside a lock of hair in her face. 'I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting-'

Narcissa felt so bitter towards the men that were all currently talking downstairs in the Main Hall, this young girl had been reduced to acting as if she was playing house. As if her prison was a home where she could expect and accept guests when and if she liked to.

'He chained you.' Narcissa said bluntly.

Hermione paled slightly, before recovering and giving her a small smile. 'I've come to think of it as more of a nuisance really.' She said honestly, answering Narcissa's unspoken question. 'True, I cannot change my clothes now, and making this bed is going to be tricky, if not impossible, but other than that, it won't affect me too much. I mean, when do I ever venture out of this room?' She gave a laugh, that Narcissa considered to be far too mature for her young age.

As Narcissa continued to watch the teenager through her grey-blue eyes, her lips pressed thinly together, and her arms folded firmly in front of her chest, she wondered what had changed; Two nights ago, this was the girl who woke up screaming, and just wouldn't stop, no matter what they tried. Comfort from Narcissa. Firmness from Lucius. Or mental torture from Lord Voldemort himself. Now though? Now?

'What's changed?' Narcissa questioned, after a fashion. 'What's so different now?'

Hermione stiffened over the sheets, still only halfway through changing them. She had her back to Narcissa, so she couldn't read her face, and though she had the ability to do it, she felt that reading her mind was too impersonal.

'A child.' Hermione said simply, her back straightening, as she turned back to Narcissa with her hands firmly clasped on top of her big belly. 'What changed was a child kicking within me. I will never accept what has happened to my friends, what has happened to me, but I will do whatever I can to keep my child safe; be it making the best out of a terrible situation, or convincing _him_ to let us out of here.'

Narcissa felt a sudden burst of hope, until she realised that us probably meant the baby.

Hesitantly, Narcissa walked forwards, towards where the shaking Hermione stood. She was a tall woman, and easily towered above the young girl, perhaps being half a foot taller than she. When Narcissa reached out to her face, Hermione flinched, but all that she did was brush away gently that same curl of brown hair that kept on escaping.

'I wish that I could be brave like you.' The older woman said finally. 'Even if it were just for my son, but I've never done anything to be proud of.'

'I'm sure that you ha-' Hermione began to argue, but a gentle finger was placed to her lips.

'Shh.' Narcissa said softly. 'I haven't. And that's why I was never sorted into Gryffindor.'

A flicker of a smile crossed over the pairs faces. But it was suddenly broken by a piercing shriek of a battlecry, and a roar from downstairs. Without looking at her, Narcissa moved past Hermione and crossed over to the window. From the shudder that the woman gave, Hermione could tell that the battle had started up again. Anxiously, she sunk down onto the bed once more.

Within minutes, Lucius Malfoy had flung into the room again. Charging towards Narcissa, he held her hands in his and gasped urgently, 'we need to leave. Now.'

Frightened, Narcissa nodded. But as Lucius was about to apparated them both out of the Manor, he saw out of the corner of his eye, a shivering young pregnant girl, with uncertainty in her brown eyes.

He looked from those wide eyes of hers, to her silver chains, to her eyes again, and eventually turned back to his wife. 'You go ahead.' He urged her. 'Stay out of the way, I will stay here with the girl. And if I can, I will catch you up.'

'Lucius?' Narcissa said desperately, tugging at his sleeves, for he was already turning away from her. 'Lucius, what's going on?'

Almost as if the downstairs had heard her, there was a loud crash and some more screams of terror and of pain.

'The real rebellion.' Lucius Malfoy said shortly, deliberately not looking at Hermione. 'And there must be thousands of them. Nearly every witch or wizard in Britain is coming down now to see us. Hold onto your hats.'


	17. And still I dreamed he'd come to me

**Eeeek. I don't like writing, 'action chapters', as it were. But still, this one needs to be done! All will be revealed to you soon...xx**

By morning, the screaming had stopped. By morning, the Manor was quiet and still. But the quietest, and the most still, was Hermione Granger. Who had won? Was it her side, and they'd forgotten about her? Not been able to find her? Or was it the other side? And what was going to happen to her now?

Smack!

There was a sharp blow across his cheek, one so hard that it caused him to stagger, despite the fact that he was being held up by two big burly men. Still, he quickly recovered and lifted his brown eyes to look at his captor in the face. And he laughed.

Smack!

'How do you insolence me, boy.' He hissed. 'Crucio!'

The younger man did everything within his power to stop him from screaming aloud. It started off as easy, and soon he was having to clamp his lips together making groaning noises, even though in his head he was screaming in agony. When the sound finally began to emerge from his lips, his captor began to smile. And so he turned into humming.

'Hmmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmmmmmmhhh! NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA! HEY JUDE!'

He laughed again as he was struck on the face for his cheek.

'Who is your leader?' The voice hissed again.

He set his jaw together firmly, and waited for the Crucio Curse again. When it came, he knotted his eyebrows so fiercely together in determination, but after a few moments only, he gave a jump.

The captor was pleased, especially when he saw that as the boy opened his mouth, blood came gushing out. However, he then saw that it was from his tongue that he had been biting onto to stop himself from screaming.

The boy spat the blood at him, his golden brown eyes gleaming mischievously. 'I'm a Muggleborn, by the way.' He grinned.

Lord Voldemort yelled with fury, as he swooped down and took the boys jaw in his strong hand. 'Who is your leader, boy?' He screamed at him. 'Tell me. I can be a Merciful Lord. Tell me!'

'Never.' Oliver Wood swore violently. 'You could drag me across daggered rocks and I still wouldn't tell.'

Voldemort's thin mouth twisted its way into a sick grin. 'Oh that could be arranged.' He hissed. 'All too easily, that could be arranged. But I have something better.'

Oliver Wood paled slightly, but kept his eye contact with the older man fierce.

'You see, I know why you came up here. I know, why your master sent you. And I can fetch her, if you want. Would you like to see her?' He smiled wickedly. 'Would you like to see, Miss Granger?'

Angrily, Oliver fought violently against the two men holding him back. With difficulty, they restrained him, but managed to keep him on his knees as they laughed with one another stupidly.

'I swear!' Oliver thundered. 'I swear, if you do anything to hurt her, anything!'

Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, I would never hurt her. She is too sweet to me. We've been keeping her kept quite well here, haven't we boys?'

The two Death Eaters guffawed again, and when one of them mentioned something about a bloody good fuck, Oliver couldn't contain himself and lashed out angrily, his hands were chained behind his back, but he kicked them and head butted one of them in the face.

Lord Voldemort watched in amusement, until the two Death Eaters had got the young man back onto the floor again. One held the boys arms behind, and used his knee to press against his back, while the other, had a heavy boot on his head, squashing Oliver's face to the ground, but so that he still had to look at Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord leaned forwards.

'Who is your leader?' He asked softly.

No answer.

The boot pushed down a little further.

'Who is your leader?'

No answer.

The boot pushed down a little further.

'Who is your leader?'

No answer.

The boot pushed down a little further.

A reluctant whimper escaped the boy's lips.

'Who is your leader?'

From behind, a door swung open.

'I am.'

Hermione was pacing in her room. The chain had little effect on this, as the room was only small to begin with. Soon, she thought with a wry smile, she will have made herself a little ditch; the stone would have been so worn with her walking on it. Hermione turned again, but this time straight into the arms of Lord Voldemort.

'Boo.' He said.

And then the pair vanished together in a puff of black smoke.

Lord Voldemort held Hermione tightly in his arms. She knew better than to fight back initially. Particularly as she recognized her location. The dungeons. He held onto her arms and had them crossed over her chest, like a position that you would put the dead in. When he pushed her forwards, she stumbled slightly, struggling to keep up with the pace of the man behind her, whilst being weighed down by the baby inside her.

'We're going on a little field trip, Miss Mudblood.' Voldemort sang softly in her ear. 'I've got a surprise for you. You'll love it.'

Hermione bit her lip to stop the tears that were stinging in her eyes. Somehow, she knew that she would disagree with him.

And when she saw Oliver Wood lying beaten on the floor, a pool of blood spilling out of his ear, and his mouth, she shrieked, and out of instinct, fought her way out of Lord Voldemort's clutches and ran to his side.

Oliver was still breathing.

Anxiously, she pulled his head onto her lap, so that she could get a better look at his injuries. How she knew that it was him after all this time and after the mangled mess of his face, she did not know. But when Hermione whispered his name to him, he gave a crack of a smile.

'Hermione.' He croaked.

'Shh.' She soothed. 'Please, please, shh.' She turned back to Voldemort, who was leaning against a stone pillar, playing idly with his wand and watching them. 'Please,' Hermione said to him directly, 'let me treat him.'

Why she thought that her begging would work, she did not know. Yet somehow it felt better than just letting him bleed to death.

'And what would you give me in return?' He smiled lazily.

'You have everything already!' She gasped out in shock. 'I cannot give you any more! You have taken it all from me. Please, please, let me just treat him.'

Voldemort smiled at the pair of them. 'You have five minutes to prepare him for me. And then he's mine.'

'Oh God.' Hermione cried, leaning over Oliver. 'Oh God. Please, please be alright. What happened?'

With every strength left remaining in his body, Oliver lifted himself up to whisper in her ear. 'I am not the leader.'

'I don't care about that.' Hermione sobbed, holding onto his poor broken hands. 'I just can't loose somebody else. I can't loose you.'

_Everyone thought that she hung around the Quidditch Tents for Harry and for Ron. But it was mainly just to catch a glimpse of him. He was the most handsome guy that she had ever seen, and with the most gorgeous accent too. _

'_Hi Wood.' The eleven year old tried to sound casual._

_He grinned at her. 'Hello Hermione, are you ok?'_

'_Yeah. You?' She blushed._

_He winked. 'I'm doing well.'_

_That was as much as they ever really talked._

_In their third year, he called her brilliant._

'Not me.' He whispered, trying to comfort her as if she were the one who was dying. 'I'm not the one who organised this. He's still out there. Don't lose hope.'

She was still crying when Lord Voldemort returned. With a dismissive glance at the boy lying in her lap, he sent a shock of green light at him.

Hermione dropped his hand in shock, as she gazed down at the brown glassy eyes that once twinkled so charmingly at her.

'I am a Merciful Lord.' He told Hermione. 'I made that end easy for him. Don't ever forget that.'

For the smallest second, Hermione felt confused. Why had he decided to be Merciful? However, that was until he had pulled her to her feet and had hissed excitedly. 'But that's not the same fate for everybody. Come and see what I've got prepared for the leader!'

One hand; was nailed to the window frame. And the other hand; was nailed to the other side of the window frame. The daylight from the morning spilled through the window, but cast a long dark shadow of a lean teenage boy, being hung by his hands.

Hermione Granger didn't want to look up to see who it was. It could honestly be anyone. And she had a nasty feeling that she knew exactly who it was.

Lord Voldemort still held onto her, from behind. Mockingly, he kissed her chin with his dry thin lips.

'Don't you want to greet our guest, Miss Mudblood?'

Despite the horror that she knew she'd feel when she saw the body, Hermione felt an overwhelming curiosity as to who it was. Instead for the time being, she contented herself to staring at the blood that was dripping, drop by drop onto the stone floor.

_Contented?_

With an angry hiss, Voldemort pushed her forwards and led her over to the body. When she still refused to look, he pulled the back of her hair, so that Hermione's head was wrenched back and she was forced to look up into the bloodied face of a recognisable yet surprising face, with a load of long blonde tresses stuck to his skin, soaked with his own blood.

'Draco?' Hermione whispered.

At the sound of his name, Draco slowly managed to lift his head. With a turn of revulsion in her stomach, Hermione noted that his eyes were now all white, as if some hideous spell had removed his pupils, so that he could not see.

'Hey you.' He murmured softly back, in that all too familiar drawl. 'Fancy seeing you here.'

Hermione gave a watery chuckle.

'Except.' Draco suddenly gave an unnerving manic giggle. 'I can't see! Can you imagine? One day you can, and the next day you can't. Remarkable, isn't it?'

'Draco-' Hermione began.

'Seriously, seriously remarkable. Serious. Sirius. I liked the sound of my Uncle Sirius. Or whatever he was, my mother's cousin, I think. But then bang, he's dead. I liked Dumbledore too, nice guy despite everything. But then bang, he's dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead. Everyone just ends up dead, don't they?'

The whites of his eyes swivelled towards Hermione. It was as if they were looking at her.

'So here's the thing, I decided that I wanted to stop that. It got boring. And it's not as if my dad really ever got anything out of it, is it? I mean, sure, he got the money, I used to like money, but at the end of the day he's got nothing. I didn't want to be like him. AND I DIDN'T WANT TO BE LIKE HIM!' He suddenly roared.

'Draco.' Hermione spoke gently. 'Draco, please. Calm down.'

His bottom lip began to tremble. 'Dead, dead, dead, dead. And now it's my turn.'

Hermione ignored the cruel turning of lips into a smile from behind her, as well as the wand that was slowly being produced from his cloak pocket. 'To die, would be an awfully great adventure.' She quoted.

'What?' There came a hiss from behind as he sharply grabbed her slim wrist. 'What was that?'

When she spoke, she spoke to the boy her age, his face tilted towards hers as if in hope. 'Don't be frightened.' Hermione said softly. 'I know you. You're strong. It's like going to sleep. And then having the longest and most amazing dream.'

'No it's not.' Lord Voldemort spat. 'When you die, you die. You lie there dead for eternity. That's it.'

Draco smiled. Ignoring his old master, he then leaned forwards and breathed. 'I'm not the leader. The leader is the bravest guy I've ever met. Although for years I've thought that he was a coward.'

'Who?'

'The one in Gryffindor.'

And that was the last thing that Draco Malfoy ever said. He hung his head and spoke no more. He'd escaped from Lord Voldemort one last time. And Hermione felt so envious to him for it.

So who was the Leader?


	18. That we would live the years together

**Thebrookester - Yes, Draco is dead. I thought long and hard about that one, but it really needed to be done. But it's ok! There's a major plot twister coming up, which may just satisfy you!**

**Chinky123 - Yes, a lot of people think that it's Neville, which is why I wrote it that way! MWAHAHAHA! But is it?**

**PotterwatchMachine - Ah good. That's what I aim to do. Make people cry. Haha. And yeah, I started off writing it so that he had really pure blue eyes, so that he started as grey and then came to blue, but then it got a bit annoying. May still keep in that idea with Lucius though. AND YES PETETR PAN! The reason why, is because I've always seen Lord Voldemort as afraid, and that's just a human flaw to be pitied really. Particularly as it is of something as inevitable as death. **

**Ikuni Hattori - Yes! I am glad that you liked my cliffhanger! And yes, I LOVE Oliver Wood. It made me so gutted that he never really appeared in the books or the films again really. Everyone is like, 'ooh Cedric Diggory', or, 'ooh Draco Malfoy'. Me? I'm like, 'mmmm Oliver Freakin' Wood!'**

**PotterwatchMachine - HELLO AGAIN! Yes, the repetition thingy was a problem for me. I have Severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder that kinda comes into and interferes with my writing, and it affects my numbers too. This is why Creative Writing is kind of like my therapy. Ah yes, I see what you mean about Narcissa's description of Hermione, I guess why I didn't include it, is because life has made her so Un-Hermione now (the symptoms are common with those suffering from depression). And yeah, I will look more into actions, their not my strongest point so I tend to just ignore them! Haha. And yeah, I loved writing about Hermione's parents. It always really annoyed me, how they were never really mentioned in J.K Rowling's books, and she never really went into detail about how Hermione felt about it. So instead I made it how Hermione had never said anything so as not to upset Harry by being tactless about his lack of parents. Also, on FanFiction, it always really annoys me how their names are ALWAYS Hugo and Rose. And so, seeing as I was listening to The Beatles at the time, their names became Jude and Lucy! Gryffindor on Pottermore? WHY ME TOO! EEEE! I have to say, I do love my review of your review back to you! Haha. Xx**

**Sweet-tang-honney - Here ya go! Xx**

**Kraco - There is! But I am teasing you all with it! Soon enough, you will find out what Lord Voldemort has planned for this child. And trust me. It's not pretty. Xx**

**Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel - And aha yes there are! But that's because my internet was not working for Ages. Xx**

**Pumpkinpatch212 - Here ya go! Xx**

**(For the later description, I know that the moon doesn't set. It's symbolic. So if you review me criticizing it, I will KILL YOU! xx).**

Neville Longbottom. It had to be. It just had to be. Who else would Draco have called a coward with Gryffindor strength? Thank God. He was alive. And he was coming to rescue her.

Hermione was currently being marched along the corridor, the metallic smell of blood pushing so hard at her senses, that she could almost taste it. For quite some while she walked in a daze, scarcely paying any attention to the Death Eater who had her arm in a firm grip. However, as he quickened his pace, Hermione struggled to keep up and eventually managed to push him away.

'I'm pregnant.' She snapped. 'I'm walking for two.'

The Death Eater's mask concealed their face, but their pause seemed to suggest that he was considering what she had to say. Certainly, when they began walking again, his pace was slowed down quite considerably.

But no matter how slow they walked, it was not slow enough as Hermione saw Bellatrix Lestrange standing at the end of the Main Corridor with her husband and some other Death Eaters. Unlike her companions, she did not wear the standard uniform and mask. Instead, she was dressed in her usual black satin and lace, frayed at the ages as if, as her clothes fell apart, so did her mind. There was no avoiding her. Bellatrix had twitched her head up, almost as if she could smell the mudblood, and was now regarding her under those dark eyelashes of her. Other than that, her expression was unreadable. Would she snap? It was not the woman who frightened Hermione so, but the anticipation of her reaction to come.

Bellatrix was standing right by the door. There was no possible way of avoiding her. The Death Eater seemed to push her forwards, at one point so violently that he let go of her arm. However, as he went to take it back again, his gloved hand briefly brushed gently against hers.

Hermione Granger was now face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange. With a horrible stab of pain in her belly, she suddenly remembered how it was just a few rooms away where she was tortured by the woman herself. Bellatrix Lestrange seemed to remember, but she didn't smile. The Death Eater went to further push Hermione towards the door, but Bellatrix suddenly flung her arm out in front of the pair, blocking their path.

_Oh no_ thought Hermione. She wasn't an idiot. She knew how much Bellatrix loved her master. She knew that Bellatrix must hate her for what was now growing inside her belly. However, how she showed this hate would be a different point entirely.

Bellatrix Lestrange leaned forwards towards Hermione, so close that Hermione could see the white of her skin, so pale that it seemed to be transparent, so close that she should be able to feel her cold breath against her ear.

'I know, how you feel.' Bellatrix whispered, before pulling away.

Her dark brown ringletted hair obscured her face, and so Hermione could make out the expression in her eyes. Was it sarcasm? Sadistic mocking? Or was it just, sadness?

Either way, the older, damaged woman let her past without protest.

As Hermione was pacing in her room once more, she felt a sudden jolt of horror from her belly. She'd completely passed by the fact that now over five hundred bodies were lying stacked atop of one another in the Malfoy Dungeons, in attempt to try and rescue her; in favour of instead thinking about herself.

'God, I am a horrible person.' She muttered, sinking down onto the bed.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of the mutilated faces that she had been dragged past on the way back to her room. With a sob, she thought of how, had things gone well, she could be free.

What kind of a girl was she?

How _dare_ she, be sitting and pitying herself, feeling resentful at the plan that did not work, when tonight, thousands of families would be in mourning? She felt another jolt in her stomach at her betrayal.

The whole situation was ridiculous really. Hermione almost felt the urge to laugh. Had she been told at the age of eleven when she had first received her Hogwarts letter, that seven years later she would be chained to a bed, pregnant with a rapist's child, with all her friends dead and her family gone, then should we have laughed at the absurdity of it all, and the over-dramatics of it.

But by God, Hermione Granger would not have changed going there at all.

Narcissa Malfoy bustled in with some flowers. Hermione watched her suspiciously, as the older woman hummed to herself, swaying slightly to some unheard music, her long blonde hair glowing as it rippled right down to her waist. Hermione had never seen it loose before, and was startled at how much Narcissa Malfoy looked like an angel with it that way.

'Lucius is taking me out tonight.' Narcissa smiled, carefully and fondly arranging the flowers in the vase that she'd carried in the other hand. 'It's our anniversary. I've been looking forward to it for a long time. Eighteen years. Doesn't seem it though, eh?'

Hermione didn't respond.

A large pain was clutching at her stomach as she came to a horrible realisation.

_She doesn't know._

When Narcissa turned to her, a genuine bright smile was on her face. 'We've just been talking about the child's upbringing.' She said kindly. 'It'll stay here, - with you too of course, you'll be pleased to know. And I'm to help. Me and Lucius are. It'll be nice to have a little one laughing around the house again, causing havoc.' She laughed slightly to herself. 'You'll enjoy it too, I'm sure.'

Hermione didn't smile. The woman did not give away any hint that she had just heard the horrible news that her son had died. Originally, she would have considered the theory that Narcissa wouldn't have shown any emotion, because she had no emotion. But that was when there two sides in this war. Now, there was just one. You could hardly call it a war like that.

Suddenly, Hermione scrunched up her face in pain. Narcissa crossed over to her side of the room, looking concerned. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah.' Hermione gasped. 'Yeah, I'm sorry. I just- I. Maybe, I'm.' She tailed off, thinking wildly. 'I'm...hungry! Yeah, that's it, I'm hungry.'

Narcissa formed her delicate features into a worried frown. 'Is there something that you're not telling me?'

Vehemently, Hermione shook her head.

Narcissa smiled kindly. 'Ok, if you're sure. Do not hesitate to come and fetch me, yes? I'm off now with Lucius. I think that the Dark Lord is going to give us a present first though. He mentioned something along those lines. A symbol of our long marriage, he said.' Her beautiful face shone with excitement.

Hermione Granger couldn't bear it any more. Without thinking of the consequences, she rushed forwards and flung her arms around her neck, pulling her into a strong hug. With another clench of pain, she thought about how similar Narcissa Malfoy's body shape was to her mothers.

Narcissa Malfoy had her hands held up in shock. She'd been far nicer to the girl than she'd deserved, but this was surely a step too far. However, it didn't feel like she thought that it would. Dirty. Disturbing. Instead, Narcissa felt valued, loved, like a mother. After a few seconds, she too put her arms around the crying young girl.

Hermione fell with a crash onto her knees. Lips firmly pressed together, she suppressed a shriek of pain as her hand pressed itself down on her writhing belly. Hard.

Focusing on her breathing, Hermione began to count to thirty. These contractions had been coming faster and lasting far longer each time. With a bite on her lip of regret, Hermione cursed herself for not knowing more about childbirth. With another sigh of irritation, she cursed herself for not knowing more about child_raising_.

She got to thirty, and yet the pain did not stop. After forty five seconds they stopped. Hermione struggled up off the floor and pulled herself onto the bed.

Why hadn't she told Narcissa?

Tact.

How could she tell Narcissa that she was having a baby, as her son lay dead in her own hallway.

Why was she refusing to cry out from the pain?

Because Narcissa was currently doing it for her.

It had been around four hours, she'd guessed by the setting moon, and each clench of pain was worse than the one before. Tears began to stream down her hot cheeks. It wasn't just the physical pain. It was the emotional pain of being a mother to a baby who she was terrified that she'd resent.

Maybe even be scared of.

Would she be scared of her own baby? A boy. A boy who looked so much like, like, _him_. No. No. It would be alright.

Wouldn't it?

She wasn't ready to become a mother. She'd just turned eighteen. Years ago, she'd thought that it would be a fine age to give birth and to have a baby. Now, however, Hermione Granger felt as if she was seven years old again.

Another reason why she hadn't called for help, was because she wanted to protect her child. Was Narcissa speaking the truth when she said that Hermione could raise her own baby? Or would it be taken away from her at birth, and raised as a hater of her heritage? She couldn't bear that.

But at the same time, she couldn't bear this pain. Unwillingly, she adjusted herself to a more comfortable position on the bed, tucked under the covers and propped up on the pillows, raised her hands, squeezed her eyes shut, and clapped four times.

With a quick succession of _pops_, four Healers appeared, all Midwives, and began bustling about without any words. Hermione grimaced as shoots of pain began to shoot through her. Did the magical world provide pain relief for their women in labour? Originally, she was determined not to succumb to the agony and ask, yet this plan was not quite as effective as she had originally thought.

'Do you have any pain relief?' Hermione gasped, the top of her body being flung forwards with each new contraction.

The Healers looked at one another, their faces obscured by their crisp white surgical masks. Eventually, the one who seemed to be the leader, said in a grim voice.

'We are not normal Healers from Saint Mungo's. We practise in Ancient Magic, and uphold traditional values. We do not offer pain relief to unwed mothers who have brought their fate upon themselves.'

Hermione would have screamed abuse at her, had she not been in such a state of shock. And just when she'd composed herself enough to present a balanced argument, as Hermione had always been taught to by her own parents, a Midwife had crudely lifted the blankets away from her legs and pushed them open. This was a normal aspect of childbirth, but the bluntness that it had been done with, made Hermione cringe.

'7 centimetres dilated.' The Midwife muttered, to herself rather than to her patient. 'She's still got a while to go.'

'How much longer?' Hermione panted. Besides the pain, she didn't like the fact that she was lying in her own sweat, her face crimson, and with her legs open for bunch of strangers to peer critically at.

Although she couldn't see, Hermione just knew that her mouth had pursed into a tight scowl. The Midwife ignored her, instead choosing to stand in a corner to talk in hushed voices with her companions. What they were talking about, she did not know. Tearful and in pain, Hermione moved her eyes from the huddle of women, probably discussing old wives tales, and glanced over to the newly constructed window, where the moon and the stars were slowly disappearing. And when Hermione looked back towards the doorway, she was startled to see a pair of emerald green eyes looking back at her.

Harry James Potter was stepping out of the shadows.


	19. But there are dreams that cannot be

**PotterwatchMachine - Aha! YES! I am pleased to get such a reaction out of you! Another long review! Great! Yes, I didn't want Narcissa to know about Draco, not at first anyway in this Chapter, I wanted to show how easily Lord Voldemort can snatch away the happier things in life when you really do least expect them, no matter who you are. And yeah, the clapping four times thing made more dramatic sense in the first draft that I did, and then I just copied and pasted and accidently kept it in - Whoopsie! AAAHH! NOT THE WRATH OF THE CORNISH PIXIES! Hell yeah I would! But I can't actually remember my username...Balderdash...I will let you know asap though! And as for Neville, I cannot truly say until Chapter 21! MUWHAHAHAHAHAHA! xx**

**Gabby0515 - Thank you! Here you go! xx**

**Chamilla Lutien Tinuviel - Awh shucks! Heehee xx**

**Sweet-tang-honney - Thank you! Here you go! xx**

**Mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura - Not quite sure what you said there, but I'm going to go ahead and say thank you anyway! Haha xx**

**Aringle42 - Aha! Clever you! I was trying to leave subtle hints along the way! Here you go! xx**

_The floor of the tent was rough, as it scraped against her cheek, from which tears freely rolled. Hermione Granger lay on her side, at present, the comfiest position that she could actually lie in, in the middle of the small one man tent, (one that Would Not be expanded by magic), with her legs curled up as tight as she could, given her big belly. Beside her, her husband, Ron Weasley, was nursing both a broken arm and a particularly nasty gash on his forehead. On her left hand side, Harry Potter knelt looking at her as she faced him, his mouth was open - numb, with shock. _

'_Don't just fucking kneel there Harry Potter!' She screamed furiously at him. 'Go and fetch a fucking midwife! Summon one! NOW!'_

'_Hermione,' said Harry weakly, 'if we go and fetch one , then we blow our cover and let them know where we are.' He then curved out of the way to avoid Hermione's fist, flying straight for his nose. _

_Behind her, and therefore unseen by his wife, Ron Weasley grinned. _

'_Well, what do you suggest that we do then, Famous Potter?' She snarled. 'Perfect Potter? What shall we do? OUCH!' Hermione whimpered as she clutched onto her stomach. Harry leaned forward in concern, but Hermione only snapped at him. 'Well, Golden Boy? Got any bright ideas this time?' _

_Ron sniggered as his baffled best friend, held up his hands in self-defence. _

_With difficulty, Hermione rolled over onto her other side. 'You.' She growled at her husband. Ron had never seen someone look so like a lioness before. He gulped and although he went pale, the tips of his ears went pink._

'_You did this to me.' _

'_Um.' Ron squirmed. 'It takes two to tango?'_

_This time, Hermione was close enough to hit her chosen target, and Ron sought to avoid her wrath by letting her punch him first time around._

'_You complete arse, Ron Weasley!'_

'_Now, come on, Hermione.' Ron tried to soothe her, going to place a soft hand on her burning forehead. _

'_Don't call me, Hermione!' She roared. _

_Ron looked at his best man, baffled. He shrugged. _

'_Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. This really, really hurts!' Hermione whimpered, one hand clasped onto her belly, the other, pushing her up onto the mound of pillows hastily constructed by the two boys. _

_Bearing in mind what had happened the last time that he'd tried to give her advice, Ron swallowed. 'Come on, baby.' He whispered to her gently. 'You can do it. Just breathe.'_

'_Would you listen to me telling you to breathe when you're trying to pass a giant Quaffle?' Hermione muttered under her breath, but nonetheless, she complied with his request, and although the pain did not go away, she felt a tad more relaxed, especially as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and said softly. 'Harry? Be a dear, and go and fetch a midwife for me? Thank you.'_

_Harry knew that it was pointless, where Hermione was concerned, to go straight into an outright refusal, and so instead he jumped right into it. 'Ok. Meet your new midwife. Me. It's me.' _

_Hermione shrieked. 'No! No! You haven't even got the training for starters! Don't be an idiot, Potter. You might play averagely on the Quidditch Field and in your job, but I am Not going to be one more of your fucking experiments!'_

'_I've delivered before.' He told her smoothly._

'_Who's?' Hermione's eyes narrowed, suspiciously. _

_He chose to avoid those scrutinising brown eyes. 'Um. Loads? Look, Hermione. I'm Famous Potter. I'm Perfect Potter. I can do anything. I'm the Golden Boy.' His green eyes twinkled mischievously, as he smiled slyly. _

_Hermione scowled, but most of the anger was gone from her eyes. Ron, however, winced._

_Harry sighed. 'Ron. I'm happily married to your sister, and your wife is having a baby. I'm not getting off on this.'_

'_Oh, I know that.' Ron said, clearly embarrassed, but looking pleased all the same. _

_While Ron's uninjured hand gripped Hermione's, her eyes met the reassuring emerald ones of her best friend. _

'_Are you two ready to become parents?' He asked, smiling. _

_Ron nodded enthusiastically, and looked at Hermione to do the same. She, on the other hand, looked terrified. For a moment, the boys were both reminded of Hermione as a schoolgirl, panicking before her exams. _

'_No.' She whispered. 'I haven't practised. I'm not perfect yet. I need more time.'_

_Harry breathed a laugh, his smile growing even wider. 'Well, it's too late for that, Hermione. She's on her way.'_

Over five thousand miles away, in a different reality, a strong contraction gripped the young girl so hard, that she felt the top half of her body be flung forward. Her cold Midwives were ordering her to push, and when Hermione was told to stop, she opened her eyes again and looked towards the doorway.

Harry Potter was no longer standing there.

And Harry Potter could not have been there in the first place.

He was gone.

And Hermione Granger, really was left all alone.


	20. And there are storms we cannot weather

There were three midwives. The youngest one could have been about Hermione's age. The middle one was probably in her fifties. And the oldest, was a crone that could have been ninety or so. All of the women had shining black hair, regardless of their age it did not go white, high pale cheekbones and cold blue eyes, that reminded Hermione of Vampire's whose eyes would then flash crimson when going in for the kill. All were clustered unwillingly around her. When the oldest one swatted her legs open with her sharp claw, the old crone grimaced.

'There's been a complication.' She said in a low voice to her companions. 'I suggest that we leave before he can blame us. He can blame the girl. In these circumstances, it is very likely that she would do this to the child herself'.

'Do-do what?' Hermione panted, struggling to sit herself up.

The three women ignored her.

'But we can't let him take it out on her?' The youngest one argued.

By the roll of their eyes, it was clear that the older ones thought that she was a fool.

'She'll probably die.' The middle one said matter of factly. 'If it's not him that does it, she'll die here in childbirth. Perhaps that will be better for her. Perhaps she would like not to live?'

'What's going on?' Hermione challenged, her heart beating even more frantically in her chest.

But the three midwives turned swiftly on their heels and departed.

'What is it?' Hermione demanded of their retreating backs. 'What is it?' She demanded again.

However, the door was slammed shut.

Hermione Granger was terrified. Complications in childbirth was one thing. Complications that caused _his_ anger was another. She began to cower in fear, thinking of his anger striking her again and again like a venomous snake.

'Help, I need somebody.' Hermione thought to herself, trying to lighten the fear that was darkening in her heart. 'Help, not just anybody.'

Another contraction tightened around her abdomen, and she curled over, pushing as her body told her to. Hermione was exhausted in pain. And more than anything else in the world, she just wanted her mum. As she shut her eyes in concentration, every muscle shook with effort. There was no great logic behind childbirth. Just a lot of energy. Which, at the moment, she crucially lacked. Until an all too familiar voice spoke in her ear.

'Come on, Hermione. You can do this.' It whispered, while slipping a comforting hand into her curled up determined fist. 'Come on. We can do this. Together. I'm not leaving your side now.'

For a few brief seconds, Hermione was able to peek a glance at the strong jaw set on the determined face of Harry Potter, his green eyes fully focused ahead. She did not question his presence there. Vision, or no vision, he was still helpful being there and she did not want to spoil the magic.

Soon, all the physical work proved again to be too much for Hermione, and she began to cry.

'Hey, hey.' Harry soothed, anxiously still holding her hand and rubbing his friend's swollen stomach.

'Th-th-th-the baby. She said that the baby was having complications.' Hermione sobbed.

Calmly, Harry looked at Hermione. 'Hermione,' he said firmly, 'I'm going to have to deliver your baby. I know-' He interrupted, holding up a silencing finger as Hermione began to protest, mortified. 'But this is the one piece of magic that you can't do alone, ok?'

'Ok.' Hermione whispered, slightly past caring.

'Ok.' Harry began to roll up his sleeves, although he paled. Hermione was disappointed to see that he wore the same blood-stained robes that he had the day that he had died.

'Do you trust me?' His green eyes flicked up at her.

Hermione nodded, without hesitation.

Pleased, Harry began to ready himself for the delivery of his best friend's baby. But as he looked at her tearstained face and at her swollen stomach, looking more vulnerable than he had ever seen any living creature, he whispered to himself sadly, 'Oh Hermione. What have they done to you?'

'I-I, I didn't want to, I-'

'Hey, shh.' He soothed, now moving down to the end of the bed. 'I know. I know.'

As Hermione cried out in a mixture of pain and distress, Harry's jaw firmly set and his green eyes grew determined. He blew out a gulp of air to steady himself and pulled back the blankets. For some reason he'd always believed that Childbirth was a beautiful process. Now, however, he had come to his senses.

In the Wizarding World, he knew that potions and spells would be used to help the expectant mother. Thankfully, being raised by muggles, he knew the basics of what to do. And it was more than just asking for hot water and towels - a device used purely to get the man out of the way.

The umbilical cord had snaked itself around the baby at some point, and was slowly squashing the baby so that it was tinged blue. The babies lifeline, was currently trying to cause its death. This had to be the complication to which the three midwives referred to. Harry knew that he had minutes, but to scare Hermione would only result in putting the both of them in danger.

'Ok, Hermione.' He said, in a tone far more calm and authorative than he actually felt. 'I need you to push for me for ten more seconds, that's all. If that doesn't work, then we'll try another ten seconds to get the baby out, ok?'

Grimly, Hermione nodded. Sweat and tears were smeared across her face and into her damp mop of brown curls, but the look on her face was reminiscent of the old Hermione that he knew. Harry smiled for the first time in a long time.

'Right.' He swallowed. 'Let's try that then, ok?'

But Hermione eventually didn't have the strength to do it. Emotionally, or physically.

'Hermione.' Harry said urgently.

The young girl flopped over. 'What's the point?' She sobbed. 'It's not as if you're real or anything, what's to say that this baby's a lie, and I'm going to have to do it all over again soon when I wake up.'

'Not in this life.' Harry muttered to himself. 'Look.' He walked back to the head of the bed again in three long strides, and grabbed onto her hand once more. 'I asked if you trusted me, and you said yes. So, trust me, Hermione. When all is said and done, I will explain. I will try to explain everything for you, I promise.'

Looking into those pleading familiar green eyes of his, feeling his hot strong hand onto hers, as if it would never let go, Hermione could only nod. And push.

She thought of Hogwarts and she had strength. She thought of the battle and lost it. She thought of Harry and gained more strength. She thought of Lord Voldemort and it was gone. Hermione Granger was desperate. Finally, she opened up the hardest most brutal place in her heart, and thought of Ronald Weasley.

Just over ten minutes later, Hermione fell back against the pillows exhausted, and waited to hear the cries of her newborn baby. But they did not come.

'Harry?' She sounded frightened as she tried to sit up again, struggling from all the pains of labour. When, at last, she did eventually manage it, Hermione looked and saw a most horrifying sight. Harry Potter was giving CPR to the Dark Lord's child. The baby was blue and not breathing. Hermione watched desperately, her heart feeling as though it was tearing in two as she waited for the little chest to rise and fall.

'Harry?' She asked again.

He was panicking now; Hermione could tell by the way he raked his hands through his untidy jet black hair. Anyone else would have given up by now, but not Harry. He kept on trying, not caring that the life that he was currently trying to save could potentially be the next Dark Lord.

Eventually, after what seemed to be a decade had passed, Hermione heard the weak muffled cries, and she sank back into her pillows in relief. 'Is it ok?' She called over the creaking of the floorboards, as Harry paced, presumably rocking the baby.

When Harry answered, his words seemed to be caught up in his throat, and his voice was filled with wonder. 'She's, Hermione, she's beautiful.'

Hermione's heart leapt. And then sunk again.

When Harry approached her with the small bundle that was his already blood-stained red jumper, Hermione had to fight the urge to turn away. What was wrong with her? She didn't understand. She'd had a baby. She'd been worried before when there was problems, how could she be so neglectful now? It wasn't in her nature.

Harry saw the flash of hesitation, before she reached out her arms. He saw that all too familiar trick of hers, of looking determinedly on a spot on his jumper, pretending to look at the baby, and then her eyes continuously flicking from this place to a place on her hand. Too anxious to even look at her own baby.

'Hermione.' He said softly, sitting gently on the bed beside her. 'This is your moment, don't let them spoil it.'

His words seemed to inspire her, as her arms began to relax somewhat, and she accepted the bundle.

When Hermione felt the warm weight of the child, her heart lightened. And when she looked into her newborn's face, her heart melted into a smile at the sight of her. Minutes old, she was already the spitting image of her mother. From her button nose, to her high cheek bones, her dark eyebrows and eyelashes, a bunch of freckles dusting her nose, and a small layer or chestnut coloured hair. Hermione was struck by how much warmth radiated from the child, but also how fragile this small bundle of layers could be. When she looked into the girls face, all of Hermione's troubles faded into insignificance, none of it would matter so long as she could protect this baby. Slowly, soft glistening tears began to trickle down Hermione's flushed pink cheeks again. She cried because the baby was less than an hour old, and yet she was in incredible danger and Hermione was at a loss as to how to help her.

'H-hey.' Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the other around the baby, shielding them from harm. 'What is it? What is it, Hermione?'

'Rose.' Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes with her thin bony wrist. 'I'm calling her, Rose. She's beautiful, but she's got thorns. To protect herself when, when I can't.'

He knew instantly what she meant, and hated it as he enveloped the pair of them into a tight hug.

'Don't leave me.' She whispered into his shoulder, her tears falling onto his skin. 'Please, don't go. I need you. I need you here with me. I know that you're just my imagination, but I really do need you, Harry.'

Harry gripped her hand in his and as he spoke, Hermione saw that tears glittered in his honest green emerald eyes. 'I will not leave you.' He promised her, swallowing back a cry. 'Hermione, I promise you, I will not leave you. What have they done to you? What have they done to you?'

It was a rhetorical question, muttered and meant only for himself, as he worriedly brushed her hair with his fingers, damp from the strain of childbirth, out of her face. But Hermione answered it for him anyway. 'They go me pregnant.' She said in a small voice, not quite daring to glance down at the sleeping baby in her arms.

Harry breathed out a cry, his hands anxiously fumbling back down again to find hers, his heart thumping in his chest with guilt at what he should have been there to prevent in the first place. 'P-please, please, Hermione.' He said weakly, hating himself as he looked into the eyes hardened by trauma of Hermione Granger. 'Please, I-I'm so, so, so, so sorry. So very sorry. I should have been there to protect you. To stop them, to stop them from raping you.' He finished lamely.

Hermione shook her head. 'He didn't rape me.' She said softly, murmuring to herself, while looking down at her baby.

Harry felt confused, and his grip on her hand loosened slightly. 'Wh-what?'

When Hermione spoke, she did so without expression, but her eyes were filled with self-loathing and disgust. 'I was always given a choice. I was either physically tortured, the Cruciatus Curse, or just physical beatings. Or I was emotionally tortured. He himself would recreate Ron for me, and would make him into something that I feared, rather than what I had loved. That's why I think that you're not one of _his_ creations. You're you, but a figment of my own imagination. And the third one was sex. Rape is sex featuring at least one non-consentual person, or an underage. I was old enough. And I was consenting. They didn't rape me, because I used to beg for it.'

Harry felt numbly horrified, he had always known that Lord Voldemort was evil, pure evil, but never before had even heard of such an evil manipulation. 'Hermione.' He told her firmly, she refused to look at him - ashamed. 'Deep down, you know as well as I do, that it was rape. It was vile, and it was disgusting rape.'

'Do you hate me, Harry?' She asked in a small voice.

Harry was so taken aback that he nearly laughed at her not to be so silly. However, in her firmness not to look at him, and her slight shaking in fear, Harry was able to calm himself and to say tenderly to the shadow of a girl he once knew, 'of course not. Of course not, Hermione.'

She paused for a moment to reflect, and then said sadly. 'Then I must be telling my imagination to tell you to tell me these things.'

For a moment, Harry was confused, until he remembered the still uncertainty in their relationship. Gently, so as not to startle her, Harry took her hand in his again and placed it over his steady beating heart. However, as soon as Hermione had begun to get excited about this sign of life, the old cynical practicality resumed, and she took her hand away, disappointed.

'Hermione.' He said desperately. 'I, Harry James Potter, am alive. It was I who led the revolt that failed. I wasn't killed that day. I've been injured. Please, let me tell you my tale, and then maybe you will understand.'


	21. I had a dream my life would be

**mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura - Why thank you!**

**Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel - Mwahahahahaha! This chapter should explain!**

**PotterwatchMachine - Ahh I love your long reviews. Yes, I wanted to show how, despite everything, Harry is still good enough to save the baby that could end up being his downfall. Would it be the same if the tables were turned?**

** - Why thank you!**

**Chamilia Lutien Tinuviel**** - Ahh after that last Chapter, I hope that you were not too much disappointed! You may not get much love for the Dark Lord in this Story, but hopefully you will in others!**

**This is Harry's little whingefest. I anticipate some people feeling that this isn't really, 'Harry', as such, but it's always annoyed me how in some stories he's portrayed as a little superhuman. This is just being human and with flaws, guys and galls. Thank for you reading. xx**

**Please keep up your lovely reviews! I really do need the motivation and they keep me going! Xx**

'I'm not dead. Honestly, I'm not. I'm The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. The Triwizard Champion. Quidditch Captain. All of these things suggest bravery, but, Hermione, I got scared. And that's the problem. Since I got scared, I wake up every day, hating myself for being a coward. I'm responsible for all of these problems. Me. I'm sorry, you look confused; I guess that I should start at the beginning, that is to say, what happened when I went into the woods to meet Voldemort.

I could feel my heart beating so hard against my chest. Every step that I took made my stomach lurch a little bit more. I was so scared that I wanted to be sick. Going into battle is different from going into your execution.

He fired the killing curse at me, but I didn't die. Again. Instead, I went somewhere. I learnt something that I think that I'd known for a long time. I think that you had guessed it too. You're smart. I saw it in your eyes sometimes, that look as if you were wondering who I was, whether or not I was safe. I know that sometimes I frightened you and Ron, well, not me, but who I could end up being.

I'm sorry, I'm going off topic, this is err, this is hard. I chose to come back. There was a choice, you see. A long story for another day. Narcissa Malfoy, she asked me if Draco was still alive and I told her yes, she lied for me so that I could get back to the Castle alive, so that we could fight everything again.

Hagrid carried me back. He was crying over me. And then I heard you guys scream. Horrible screams. It was then that I wanted to get up, to tell you all that everything was alright. But instead I waited.

And I continued to wait as Voldemort began to torture Neville. I'm, I'm disgusted with myself, Hermione. I can't lie and say that I was under some sort of spell. The reason why I didn't jump up is because I was afraid. Cowardly and afraid. Since I came back, I began to realise how valuable life was to me. I could feel every breath. I could feel the blood pumping around my veins. I, I guess you could say that I wanted someone else to be the hero for once. I didn't want it to be me.

It was Ron who stepped forwards. I couldn't believe it. I always knew that he had something in him, but never that much courage. He gave me so much courage. So much faith. I knew that I could fight too.

But then it all went wrong. There was too much chaos. Hagrid laid me down, and somehow my wand stopped being in my pocket. I dared to take a peek open with my eyes. Some Death Eater had it, twirling it around his horrible dirty fingers, probably wondering what price he could get for it; he didn't see me looking at him in horror. I was now wandless against all these powerful witches and wizards who wanted to kill me. But when everyone disapparated, I decided to try and get up, I was behind a load of rubble, they wouldn't have seen me. Draco did though. Quicker than me even managing to lift my head, he had sent Petrificus Totalus at me. Before I couldn't move out of fear, and now I couldn't move because of the stupid spell. I cursed Draco inside my head. That bastard really was on _his_ side. However, as it turned out, he was only trying to protect me. I struggled so hard to move. It was then that I began to hate myself for not fighting sooner, then none of this would have happened. Why did I have to be such a coward? All I could do was listen. Listen as everyone disapparated. I listened as Ron fought him, protected you. He was so brave. I should have been that brave. And then, maybe none of this would have happened. Ron fought valiantly; he took them all on at once. I think that maybe even Dumbledore would have struggled. He was fighting for you. Oh, Hermione, please, don't cry, please don't cry, Hermione. Ron fought so bravely and so well. I'd never paid much attention to see just how good he really was. They were all getting closer. I had to shut my eyes. I had to still play dead. There was nothing that I could do, although I fought the curse with all of my might. And then I heard someone fall down beside me, skin brushing against mine, and I heard their great cackles of laughter. I couldn't even grieve properly for Ron then as he lay down beside me, my mind was already focusing on you in a frantic panic. He was ordering people to go and find you, to fetch you, to bring you to him. He gave them strict instructions not to kill you, and then they all laughed when he said something in a lower whisper. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. Knowing that Draco could work in Occulemency, I wondered if he could also read my mind. It felt like someone was in there listening already, it was a risk, but I begged whoever it was to bring me out of the curse so that I could go and help you. It could have been _him_, but I took the risk. Whoever it was, they didn't respond. But just as I gave up, there was a familiar drawl, louder than life, yet like a whisper at the same time, I couldn't explain it. Not yet, Draco said to me, not yet. I told him that I'd already lost one friend and I was not about to lose another, but he only told me that they really wouldn't kill you. That they wouldn't ever kill you. It was then that I realised that death might have been the sweeter release. Yet, Draco still promised me that he was leading his group on a false trail, hoping to catch them out, to make them believe that you had disapparated, even if it was just to give you some more time.

But then you came to me. I've never worked harder in trying to lift off a spell. In my head, I was screaming at you to run - wanting to push you away - desperately wanting to carry you away. I had to lie there as I felt _his_ hands pull yours off of mine. I had to listen to your scream that turned into the howling wind as you disapparated.

The spell was lifted, but I just continued to lay there, numb with shock and horror. My brother was dead. My sister was in danger. And it was all my fault. Please, I'm not asking for sympathy. I deserve none. I just need to say it all out loud.

Draco came out of the blue and pulled me up by the scruff of the neck, he was speaking, but I couldn't hear. All that I could hear was your screaming. Eventually, I found the strength to push him off of me and ran for it. I wasn't followed.

I stayed near the centaurs. Near enough to have some form of company, although most of the time I did not want any, and far away enough so as to not offend them by imposing myself on their pack. Centaurs do not get involved in Wizarding Wars at all; they have more sense than that; I knew that they wouldn't turn me into him, and that they wouldn't hate me for being a coward for not saving them all.

Eventually, over time, I think that they came to like me; certainly they trusted me as I was educated in every centaur secret, even if it was past my _human understanding_ of them all.

Still, after a time, the guilt became too much, I was letting down my parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, my teachers, my friends, and most of all you. Rashly, I decided to go on one of my old rescue missions. You weren't there to talk some common sense into me. I apparated outside the forest by Malfoy Manor, ready to swan in without my wand or even a knowledge of where exactly it was, seeing as it was protected by a Fidelus Charm, luckily Draco had been alerted to an intruder and got me before anyone else did. We apparated back to the Forest of Dean, if it had worked for us during our Horcrux Hunting's; he figured that it would work for his own plan. First, Draco gave me my wand back. He said that I had every right to be suspicious of him. He then told me that you were doing as well as you could be under the circumstances, that his mother had grown attached to you, that his father tried to prevent more bad things from happening to you, and that he himself was working to get you out. And not just that, he'd been raising an army.

Hermione, it was huge. There were thousands of them, I wish that you could have been there to see it, still named Dumbledore's Army. All made up of people who hadn't managed to get out before the barriers went up around the country, but who had refused to accept the new regime. We'd decided to plan another battle. One that would be as quick for the people in need as possible, but we knew full well that this couldn't be rushed.

Then one day Draco came rushing into the tent that we shared. He was even whiter than normal, his eyes dark and frantic as he ran his hands repeatedly through his hair. I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't answer me, he only kept on saying that the battle needed to be done, and that it needed to be done soon. Something was up I knew, he'd gone to Malfoy Manor to check on you just days before. The last few times that he'd been, he hadn't been able to see you. This time, I knew full well that something was up. Other people in the camp were whispering too. All copies of The Daily Prophet disappeared. I thought that you were dead and threw myself at Draco, hitting and kicking him because that's what I wanted him to do to me as punishment for failing you. They all promised me that you were alive, but wouldn't say anything more, only that we should go into battle now. It was too soon, I argued, too soon, far too soon. As we argued, some members of the Camp snuck out and decided to begin without us. They were all bloodthirsty widows and orphans, ones who had more of a reason to fight and who had lost all restrain. Soon, they had lost their lives. It was all the more reason not to fight now, I said. But Draco disagreed. They all went off without me. I expected people to flock back injured and remorseful. I had grown used to seeing Draco's apologetic grin, and felt almost smug at the thought of them all coming back to me like that. Hours passed. Days passed. It couldn't just have been the journey. I knew that I was all alone again. Thank God Draco is smarter than we thought. As Secret Keeper, he gave me the address before he went to his death.

So here I am. It's not been a brave tale at all. It's been down right cowardly. But all I can do is ask for your forgiveness, even though I deserve none.'

'I give it freely.'

'What? Hermione, you can't say that.'

'I can. And I will. You're here now, aren't you? You tried. Harry, for goodness sake, you're human, not superman. I know what it's like to be scared. And now you do too. I guess you could say that you've grown up. You've grown up and lost that wonderful sense of childhood naivety which we had when we took him on for the first time in our First Year. You're here now. I forgive you. More than that. I understand.'

'Thank you.'

'He gave you the address, but how did you actually get in undetected?'

Harry looked up in surprise; he had been rocking Rose in his arms as Hermione changed into new clean roes. She looked at him now, torn between confusion and excitement at the thought of her friend up to his old tricks again.

Harry grinned, his pearly white teeth sparkling at her. 'I disguised myself as a Death Eater.'

'It was you.' Hermione gasped. 'The other day, you were the one who took me past Bellatrix Lestrange, you stroked my hand.'

A flicker of worry passed over Harry's handsome face. 'No.' He said slowly. 'No, that wasn't me, Hermione. Draco, perhaps?

She bit her lip. 'No.' Hermione shook her head, brushing her eyes in annoyance as yet more tears threatened to spill. 'He was, he was dead by that point.' Angrily, she swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump rising in her throat, as she folded her arms firmly across her chest.

Seeing her in distress, Harry made to go and comfort her, by first placing the baby on the bed.

'No!' Hermione suddenly whipped around shrieking. 'No!'

'Shh.' Harry whispered desperately, rushing over to her with Rose still in his arms. 'Please, no, no noise. They'll find us. Just, what is it?'

'I'm sorry.' Hermione whimpered, reaching out with shaking hands to take Rose. 'Just give me her, please, just give me her. Let neither one of us ever put her down again, ok?'

'Hermione, we're going to have to stop holding her at some point. That's just what you do with babies.'

She shook her head vehemently. 'Not with this baby. Harry, bad things will happen to her, I just know it. Please, please don't ever let her go.'

Had the situation not been so deadly serious, Harry might have been bewildered, but he understood straight away. 'Hermione,' he said cautiously. 'Hermione, I have something to ask you.'

'What is it?' She asked, her eyes not leaving the baby, as she discreetly began to get ready for feeding her.

Seeing the lifeline between the two of them, the upmost care that his friend gave the innocent baby, Harry just couldn't do it.

'When will someone next be checking up on you?' He finished lamely.

It was night time. Harry sat in the armchair, Rose in his lap, snuffling gently as she slept, and Hermione in her bed, her back to him so that she faced the door. It didn't take him too long to figure out that she was crying.

Quietly, and with Rose still leaning up against his shoulder, Harry clambered into bed beside Hermione, and held her close.

'Oh, Harry it hurts.' He heard her whisper. 'It hurts so bad. I can't sleep. I can't think. I don't even know who I am anymore. Make it go away, please, make it all go away.'

Harry reflected on what she had said, stroking her familiar curly hair, the hair that he had looked out for, for so many months now. 'Do you really mean that?' He asked seriously. 'And answer honestly now. Do you really mean that now?'

Hermione rolled over so that she was lying on her back, facing him as he was propped up on one elbow. Her face and eyes shone with tears over a year old. 'Of course I do.' She said softly. 'End it all for me now, Harry. End it all for me now, please.'

'What if I told you that there was a way.'

With a trembling hand, Hermione reached for his face to caress it. 'Please, do it, I can't live like this.'

Harry took the hand and moved it gently away, although he still held onto it. 'No, Hermione, not like that. I know of something that I can do. A theory, as it were.'

Hermione just looked at him, waiting for him to carry on.

As he spoke, Harry felt the words catch at his throat in betrayal. 'Everything is pre-destined. I have been hit with the killing curse twice. And twice, I have survived it. Why? Because it is not my time, I am not to die in that way and by him, my death date has been set already, it is a fixed moment in time.'

Hermione nodded again to show her understanding, as she did so, her expression slightly softened, and became similar to the one that he had grown up with, this young girl in the classroom, so eager to learn. It was this that encouraged him, and so he pressed on. 'Ok? So, um, bear that in mind, ok? Where I went to, it gave me the choice to come back after Voldemort, well, after Voldemort killed me. I did, but unsuccessfully.' He blushed slightly. 'See, but here's the problem. That wasn't supposed to happen. Look, feel here.' His warm hand took Hermione's and placed it over his beating chest, sure enough, there was a steady heartbeat. 'Now,' he looked uncomfortable, but pressed on. 'What's his like? What's he like, Hermione?'

Hermione thought of him on top of her. She thought of how he whispered in her ear, and yet no breath tickled at her neck. She thought of how, when pressed against him, there was none of the steady beating of his heart that she could feel now beneath her hand over Harry's chest.

She understood at once. 'Oh, Harry.' She breathed.

'Shh.' He warned, sensing tears. 'You're right. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be dead. But he's not. And I have to change that. Yet, see, here's the thing, Hermione; Because technically speaking, he's supposed to be dead, he cannot die if I were to kill him now and here.'

'But, but he has no Horcruxes!' Hermione's beautiful face creased into a worried frown.

'Shh, hey, hey, it' s ok, I know. But nonetheless, his own death has made him immortal. He couldn't be killed by me because I should be dead in this life, someone else would have to do it, and use dark magic too. And if he finds the means of making yet more Horcruxes, then we really do have a problem. However, there is something that I can go do to go back to where I was, and wake up again in the Battle of Hogwarts and then defeat Voldemort, none of this would ever have happened. You'll be safe. We'll all be safe. Ron will be safe too.' He added softly, his green eyes looking away in regret.

Hermione felt elated, the best that she'd felt in nearly two years. Normally, this kind of idea would make her scorn it, but this time, she was without hope and she needed some. This time, Hermione was delighted with war. Her tears of sadness turned into ones of joy, as she grasped onto his hand firmly. 'Then do it'. She sighed. 'Do it, now.'

And then her baby sneezed.

Both of them looked over the sleeping infant, still so small as she nestled into the crook of Harry's arm.

'Ah, you see,' Harry said tenderly, 'this here is our biggest problem.'

It took Hermione only seconds to work it all out, and with a sudden rush of love and affection, Hermione took the baby from him and held her close. 'I will not leave her.'

'You would not be leaving her. She would cease to exist. And you would remember, nothing.'

'And so that makes it right?' Hermione cried, now startling to gently rock the disturbed baby. 'Harry, how can you say that? She's real. She's as real as you or I. How can I let you do this and say that she doesn't deserve the chance to live?'

'Nobody is saying that.' Harry murmured, placing a soothing yet tentative hand on hers and the baby's back. 'Please, Hermione, nobody is saying that.'

'Harry, she would cease to exist.'

'Well, yes.' Harry began to look even more uncomfortable, like he was hiding something. Hermione knew that look all too well. 'But listen, Hermione, listen. If a death is a fixed account in time, then shouldn't make logical sense that a birth is a fixed account in time too? Maybe not the date, maybe that changes, the centaurs said that it would, but that the event would always be consistent, Hermione?'

She couldn't think straight. All of her energy was focused on holding onto the baby girl, and keeping her safe from harm. Even if that harm was Harry.

'Well, that's my theory anyway.' Dejected, Harry Potter held up his hands and slipped them back into his pockets.

'There's just a problem with that theory, Harry.' Hermione then said through gritted teeth. 'You want me to give her up, so that you can go back and be a hero again, and not a coward, and then I'll have my copy of this baby again in a few years time. But she won't be the same. She won't be the same Rose, because Voldemort won't be there to rape me. She won't be Rose, because her daddy will be missing from her genetic make-up.'

Harry bit his lip, his head hung so that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his only alert soilders now. But when he grimaced down at the child, his features suddenly changed to spread into an enormous grin.

'Hermione?' He whispered in his excitement. 'Hermione? Look at her.'

'What? Harry, what are you on about?' Hermione's gaze deliberately avoided Rose.

'Look at her. Hermione, please, look at her.'

'Harry, I can't.'

He knew from the pleading expression in her eyes why she could not. Never before had she said aloud the father of her baby. And now that she had and that it was out in the open, she was afraid to look at her, incase the glowing red eyes of Lord Voldemort looked back.

When Harry spoke again, his voice was much gentler. 'Please, Hermione, look?'

Hermione struggled with herself, but eventually did so.

'Does she look at all like him?'

Relieved, Hermione shook her head.

'Does she look like you?'

She nodded.

'Just, like you?'

Hermione looked up, confused.

'Anybody else? What does she look like, Hermione? What does she look like?'

'Um, skin like mine.' Hermione started awkwardly, confused as to what Harry was up to. 'With freckles on the nose. My brown eyes, I think. Small like me. She'll grow up to be slim, I reckon.'

She shot a dirty glance at Harry who ignored it. 'What else? What else is there?' He persuaded her. 'What's her hair like?'

'It's newborn hair, Harry, she'll loose it all in about a week and then it'll grow again.'

'In the same colour. What's her hair like?'

'Brown.'

'Like?'

'Like mine?'

'What kind of brown?'

'I don't know, chestnut?'

'So, a sort of reddish-brown then, yes?'

'Well yes, I guess, I don't know.'

'Where would she get the red hair from?'

'Harry, what?'

'Tell me, Hermione. Where would she get the red hair from?'

'Harry? I don't know, I-'

'I do. Ron Weasley.'

Hermione sighed. 'The dates don't add up, Harry.'

'But they could do.' Harry rose from the bed in excitement and began to pace in thought. 'Not in this life maybe, but in the one that should have been. Hermione, how could a dead man have a child? Genetically and logically she may be _his_, but in reality, how it was written, she should be Ron's. Hermione, you won't loose her if we go back. You'd gain her again with Ron.

Hermione blushed. She'd only kissed the boy, and already Harry was matchmaking them into having a family together.

'And this only goes to prove even further that this reality isn't reality. It's just a dream world. Hermione, all I have to do is to wake up - well, go to sleep here really, and then we'd be back where we're supposed to be.'

'Harry, Harry I just can't take that chance.'

He twirled around in surprise. 'What?'

She looked away again from him. 'I'm sorry, Harry. But I know what happens here. I hate my life, it's true, but wouldn't be so much better if you got us both out of here? We'd know what would happen then. What if you die in the Battle? For real this time?'

'Hermione, that won't happen, I-'

'Why?' She became scornful. 'Because you're The Boy Who Lived, and because a couple of centaurs told you so. I'd like something a bit more reliable than the alignment of stars please, Harry.'

Harry could have cracked a grin, she sounded so wonderfully bossy again.

'And anyway, Harry.' She looked at him suspiciously again. 'You have the power to do it. You've had the power to do it for a long time. Why didn't you do it before? Why don't you just do it now?'

'Because I need you to tell me that I can do it.'

'My permission?'

'I need someone to tell me that I have the ability to do it.'

**Comprende? It's confusing. I know. But review me your questions and I'll do my very best to answer them! Much love. xx**


	22. So different from this hell I'm living

It grew suddenly cold. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood again in attention. Hermione's stomach curdled and she clutched Harry's arm in fear.

'Oh, Harry.' She breathed.

He knew. 'He is coming?'

She nodded. 'But please don't leave me.'

'Hermione, you know that I have no choice. I will be near, I promise you. I'm going to see if I can find out any more information on how to get you out of here.'

'You won't fall asleep?'

'Not if you don't want me to.'

'Surely your body must need to? It-'

Harry shook his head again. 'I shouldn't be here, in this lifetime I'm supposed to be dead, I don't need to sleep or eat, my body is being taken care of for me.'

'Please, please just get us both out of here, help me and Rose. Don't fall asleep; promise me that you won't fall asleep?'

Harry hesitated.

'Promise me.'

'I promise.'

The pair continued to hold onto one another, absorbing in every detail that they had missed since they last parted. It felt like a lifetime, but it could have only been seconds. As Harry began to turn away, Hermione gave one last tug on his arm.

'I don't feel like a Mum, Harry. I know that I need to protect her; I know that I love her, but I still don't feel like a Mum. Is this all there is?'

She was right; she didn't look like a Mum at all. Harry could still see that bright-eyed eleven year old girl hidden behind her weary face. He didn't have an answer for her.

'Hermione, I have to go.' He cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her forehead. 'I'll be back for you both, I promise.' And then he was gone.

And seconds later, Lord Voldemort was standing in the doorway.

Hermione held Rose closer to her; the infant began to mew, startled by this sudden movement. Voldemort's mouth spread into a large evil grin.

'They told me that you were both dead. But I knew that they were lying. I would have felt it if the two of you had gone. It's a shame really. They all died for nothing.'

Hermione shivered, and he began to walk closer to the bed. There was nothing that she could do. Nowhere she could run and hide, before too long, Voldemort was standing over them both, a hand reaching out to stroke the baby's head. Her stomach curdled again as he made in contact with the baby.

'Good girl.' He whispered. 'Good girl.'

Thankfully, he took his hand away and stopped leaning over them. 'She's healthy.' He remarked. 'A pity about her sex, but she's healthy at least.'

Fury swelled up inside Hermione. 'Are you still living in the Dark Ages?' She spat. 'So what if she is a girl?'

Voldemort smiled at her. 'Ah, at last, you've found your tongue. It makes a refreshing change from all your crying.'

She flushed angrily, but said nothing.

'Next time, we can have a boy.'

'I don't want there to be a next time.' It came out in more of a startled panic than she had hoped. Annoyed, she cursed herself for sound pathetic and weak, particularly in front of Rose.

Voldemort reached out and stroked Hermione's face. She shuddered. 'There will be.' He promised. 'I need a boy. I need to have a son.'

'Why?' She shot at him. 'Why do you even need children at all? You're not even capable of love.'

He mocked her. 'Not capable of love? Now that's very harsh wouldn't you say?' And yet he grinned at her argument. 'But why on earth would I have children, just so that I could _love_ them. There would be no point in that at all. You're right, Miss Mudblood. I cannot love. Because I refuse to love. Love is weak. Where are all those who loved you? The ones who came to find you? They're rotting in the dungeons.'

Hermione fought the urge to think of Harry hiding amongst his followers. Voldemort was not looking in her mind at the time, and did not seem to catch the brief image she had of Harry holding Rose close to him.

'You're weak.' It was childish, but she wanted to speak anyway.

Voldemort laughed. 'Are winners weak?'

'No.'

'Am I a winner?'

'No.'

'Well, I must be. Where is Harry Potter? Dead. Rotting. Where is Albus Dumbledore? Dead. Rotting. Where are they all? Dead. Rotting.'

Hermione looked away from him and he smiled again. 'As soon as you are well enough again, we will have a boy. You have one week to prepare yourself.'

'A week?' She shrieked. 'No, please, please, no. It will take far longer than that.'

'Call me My Lord.'

'No.'

'One week.'

'No.'

'Two little words.'

'Never.'

'Three days.'

'What do you want another baby for, anyway?' Her curiosity had burst out of her, before she'd even realised that it was there to begin with.

Lord Voldemort smirked. 'To live forever.'

'It's just a saying that children keep you young, you know.'

'I am a powerful wizard. I have found the means.' He leaned in towards her, so that they were nose to nose. 'When we have a boy, I will wait until he is eighteen years of age and curse him. His soul will die in my aged body, and I will live in his. And because I need more boys, I will be taking you with me. Any girls that we have together, will be cursed with you when they turn sixteen. We will live forever. I will take over the wizarding and muggle population, and they will live under my rule for the rest of Time. And you, you will never escape me. You will spend all of your immortal life, hating yourself as you watch our children die one by one.'

Hermione began to scream. And even more so when he effortlessly plucked the baby Rose from her arms. Still shrieking, and with tears falling down her face, she lunged at him, trying to snatch the baby back, kicking and punching and slapping him regardless of the consequences. Just as they got to the doorway, he turned around and smacked her so hard across the face that she fell backwards and hit her head on the stone wall and slumped into unconsciousness.

At all of the commotion, and the pair of red eyes staring at her, baby Rose began to wail in despair. Gently, Lord Voldemort adjusted her so that she was more comfortable and began to sing.

_Hush little baby don't you cry,_

_Mummy's going to live,_

_And you're going to die._


	23. So different now from what it seemed

**You understand? Good. Ok. Let's go.**

Harry held her in his arms. Where was the baby? Where was Rose? He'd been kneeling with Hermione on his lap for over ten minutes now and she was yet to wake up, despite the fact that when he found her she had already been unconscious for quite some time.

The Death Eaters, it was revealed, were arranging some kind of ceremony. One that they were clearly used to, giving at how efficient they were at preparing it. And he was relieved to find that most of the Death Eaters were murmuring amongst themselves about how grass wasn't greener on the other side after all. They told him stories of Lord Voldemort killing people just to prove that he could, in front of them all, just to scare them into continuing his work. But it only made people doubt him even further. Nonetheless, he knew full well that it wouldn't be a wise decision to take off his Death Eater mask. There was only one occasion when something unexplained happened. He'd been asked to show his Dark Mark, and he had shown the copy of it. It was a good copy, but they were clearly all on the lookout, and had seen dozens of similar ones on the opponents in the rebellion who had all had them done should they ever need to be spies like Harry was being now. He was just about to panic, when another masked Death Eater came over and waved his arm as a signal for the other Death Eater to piss off, which he did so. Yet, when Harry caught up with the Death Eater that had saved him, and grabbed onto his cloak, the material came away in his hands and no one was there.

Hermione's eyes flicked open. Seeing her panic, Harry put his hand over her mouth to muffle her agonised screams.

He soothed her, rocking onto her gently as she thrashed her legs about, kicking and trying to get up. For all her logic, Harry knew full well that Hermione could be more rash than him when she wanted to be, he wouldn't put it past her to break out and to hurtle herself at Voldemort faster than he managed to place the Imperius Curse to stop her from doing it.

When her anger turned into despair, he lifted his hand from her mouth and asked where Rose was.

She told him everything.

And Harry realised what a serious situation they were all in.

'Please, please, Harry.' Hermione sobbed. 'Just get us all out of here, I beg of you.'

Harry's only concern, was that Lord Voldemort would be able to find them again.

He was bleeding. Wearily, Lucius Malfoy tore a piece of his robes off and made a bandage for his finger. Since his son had died, Lucius had been unable to do magic. The knife with his blood on, lay on the floor, and it was with more carefulness than before that Lucius picked it up. Beside him, his wife watched him with eyes that didn't quite see. Almost overnight, all of her beauty had gone. Not that she cared. She didn't care about anything anymore.

It didn't take him too long to realise that a smaller, slighter Death Eater was watching him.

'The Dark Lord wishes to see you.' He squeaked.

Good God. By the sound of his voice, he was about eleven, not even broken into a man yet. What the hell was he doing working for a bunch of corrupt bastards like himself? Lucius nodded and the boy ran off, clearly as terrified of him as he was of the Dark Lord.

Was this what he had become?

Before he left to go and see him, his wife laid her hand on his arm. She said nothing, but he understood. If this was his execution, he had her blessing to go and die.

He was so used to seeing his old Master sitting smugly in his throne, that Lucius got the shock of his life when he saw him standing and gently rocking a baby in his arms.

'Ah, so she's had it then.' He thought with a sigh. The bow that he gave Voldemort was a lot smaller than it had been in the past month. Killing his son was one thing, forcing a young girl to have a child was another. It seemed like he wanted to work in both Life and Death.

'Ah Lucius.' He said silkily. 'My old slippery friend, come here, will you?'

The old Lucius would have been unwilling, but even though he still expected death, he gladly walked towards it. And he almost felt disappointment when Voldemort handed him the baby and said. 'She needs her mother.'

When they heard the knock at the door, Harry and Hermione broke from their embrace, the first disapparating and the latter rushing towards the door, ready to attack Voldemort, despite Harry's warnings. But what greeted her there was Rose in the arms of Lucius Malfoy, who gladly handed her over.

'Oh, thank you.' She whispered, her eyes never leaving the baby. 'Oh thank you so much, Lucius.'

Seeing her there reminded him of Narcissa when Draco was a baby. The perfect bubble in which mother and child lived in together. It was this memory that made him speak up and say. 'Draco died for you.'

Hermione flinched, but said nothing.

'He was working for Harry Potter, was he not?'

Her continued silence told him everything. 'Good.' He breathed. 'Because in his absence, I will take his place.'

A few days passed. Harry would guard them at night and be with them whenever he could at day. Lucius Malfoy was ensuring that Harry's location was being kept a secret by denying access to the rooms by any other Death Eater, despite the fact that he had not yet seen the boy and Hermione was refusing to admit that he was anywhere in the Manor. However there were too many signs of the boy's presence. He had spied on him for long enough on behalf of the Dark Lord to know his ways. He knew full well that it was out of character for Hermione to leave Rose's dirty blankets dumped on the floor by the foot of the bed.

For the time being, Voldemort was leaving them both alone, but Harry knew full well that he would return and sure enough, on the third day, Voldemort returned, this time startling her by appearing through the window. He grinned at her shock. 'I have made precautions.' He informed her, pointing at the door. 'I can't have you getting out now, can I?'

Hermione said nothing. Foolishly, she had just placed Rose in her cot which was now closer to Voldemort than it was to her. He noticed this and smiled again, leaning over the sleeping baby. 'Say hello to Daddy.' He crooned.

She felt sick. When Voldemort turned back to her, she realised what he had come for. Before too long, Hermione had been pushed back against a wall, and he was pressing hard against her.

'No.'

'I'm inclined to acquiesce your request.'

'You're wrong.'

Voldemort frowned slightly. 'What?'

Hermione grew braver. She forced herself to push against him, and to tilt her chin upwards so that she glared into his red eyes. 'You think that you're so clever. But you're wrong. The amount of times you use that word because you think that it makes you sound big, a bigger man, when actually you're using it incorrectly. You mean to say that you're disinclined to acquiesce my request. But you couldn't work that out on your own, could you?'

Voldemort raised his eyebrows, annoying unbothered by Hermione's criticism, something that would have greatly offended her if it had ever come up. 'Fine. I'm _dis_inclined to acquiesce your request.'

'No.'

Voldemort chuckled. 'It's ok. You've said yes enough times now. I'm just going to go ahead and do it anyway.'

And no matter how hard Hermione Granger screamed, no matter how tragic and desperate they sounded, both Lucius and Harry knew that they could do nothing but wait.

When he was finished, Voldemort smacked her hard across the face again. But this time she bit her lip, determined not even to whimper. And so he did it again. And again. And again. He kept on hitting her until a single tear rolled down onto her cheek. He licked it.

'You're despicable.' She whispered.

He said nothing, only turning and heading back towards the cot. Hermione ran at him and began to fight him again, but this time he used a wand to keep her away, though nothing that he did deterred her. It was only when he pointed the wand at Rose's head did she stop.

'Please, don't.' Hermione murmured, all attentions fixed on the sleeping baby.

Seeing her pain at him holding her, Voldemort began to smile again and, his eyes never leaving Hermione, pressed his dead lips onto the baby's forehead in a mockery of a kiss.

She flinched.

Satisfied, he smirked and walked past her, and expertly holding the baby with one hand, he proceeded to climb out of the window and slink facing down like a lizard. The whole time, Hermione did not breathe. Not until she saw him get safely to the bottom. Not until she saw that Rose had not fallen.

As soon as this had happened, Harry burst into the room, the curse lifting instantly in his anger as he shot the spell at the door. He ran towards the window and leaned out; looking for some sign that he could attack now in his rage. But Hermione laid a quivering arm on his shoulder, too afraid that any curse sent by him would hit Rose.

Sighing, Harry raked his hands through his untidy hair, before enveloping Hermione into a hug.

'Where's he taking her?' She sounded broken. 'Where's he taking her?'

'She's being turned into a Horcrux.' The voice of Lucius Malfoy came from the doorway.

As Hermione screamed in terror for Rose, Harry listened as best as he could to Lucius.

'He suspects that Hermione will become a liability after a while. He knows that she hates him; he's glad that she hates him, but he's not an idiot despite what anyone says. He knows that one day she could turn around and kill him, particularly as their children will continuously die for their own immortality. By making Rose a Horcrux, not only does he have one again to begin with, he knows that Hermione will never be able to kill her. A Horcrux is immortal. Rose will always live forever. Rose will stay as a baby. He knows that Hermione could never kill any baby, much least her own. It's a horrible trick, but he's happy to use it.'

His attention turned to Hermione, who had quietened down now. 'I need to take you to him now. He wants you to watch this. To understand that he will always be immortal. Harry, you need to do something before this happens. If Rose is made a Horcrux and then you run away, he will always be able to find you. The same goes for Hermione if she is pregnant again, he will share a connection with his unborn child for as long as it lives inside Hermione and depends on both of its parents souls to make its own.' Carefully, Lucius took out his wand. Hermione pushed it away. 'Please, Hermione.' Lucius began. 'This spell isn't an abortion one. It's just to see if you are pregnant or not.'

'And if I am?'

It was a challenge directed at both of the men in the room.

Lucius looked at a loss for words, and instead looked to Harry who said grimly. 'Then it has as much right to live as Rose.'

'You idiot.' Lucius breathed. 'I know that you want to be a Golden Boy, Potter, but this is absurd. It would lead you all to your deaths should you escape.'

'It's a risk that we'd take.' Harry returned as Hermione said,

'He didn't touch me when I was pregnant with Rose, nobody did. I could stay here and Harry could come back for me and the new baby.'

Lucius had to bite his tongue, reminding himself that for all their airs and graces, they were still very much children. If it came to it, he would curse the baby out. But for now, he produced his wand and gently touched Hermione's belly with it.

He then breathed a sigh of relief. 'She's not pregnant.' He told Harry. 'Tonight is your only opportunity. You have until midnight. Come on, Hermione. Let's go.'

As Lucius marched Hermione along, she whimpered into his cloak. He knew that there would be problems with her ease at his presence, but for now this was the least of his worries. The only thing that Lucius could do now, was wear that same look of disgust as the mudblood clung onto him. She was dressed in her usual black silk robes, ripped after numerous attacks by Lord Voldemort and some of his other followers. He now felt incredibly uncomfortable to be taking this young girl, with too much of her pale flesh on display, into a room filled with dirty minded creatures. He chose not to think of it, but instead towards the plan that Potter had quickly devised. If this plan worked, and his old master ended up dead somehow, then he will have avenged his son. If this plan failed, then he would see Draco again in his death. The thought made him smile.

Meanwhile, back in Hermione's room, Harry Potter was panicking. He couldn't kill Voldemort. Not now in this lifetime, that much was clear. The only thing that Harry could do was somehow weaken him. Yes. Him trying to weaken Lord Voldemort and around the five hundred of his Death Eaters who flitted in and out of the Manor as they pleased. Hermione could do it. But could she? He knew Hermione all too well; she couldn't live with herself for killing someone, no matter who they were. Lucius Malfoy? Oh God. What was he to do?

As Lucius looked around his old Grand Hall, he felt another stab in the stomach of sadness. His beloved home had essentially been destroyed and ransacked by the amount of scum who walked in and out of here everyday. Where there had once been grand hangings of emerald and silver, black hangings with Lord Voldemort's crest proudly swung. Blood was smeared along the floor, the walls and all of the windows and the old large marble staircase had now been transformed into his Stage where Lord Voldemort stood proudly above them all, Rose sleeping contentedly in the crook of arm, and Hermione struggling in the other. He was laughing with the dozens of Death Eaters before him, and they were jeering back at the younger girl's misfortune. Lucius felt sick. Beside him, his sister-in-law stood watching intently, her face deathly pale and her cheeks hollowed.

'How can you love him?' He growled.

Bellatrix didn't look surprised to hear him ask such a thing. 'It's my fault what is happening to her.'

Instead it was Lucius who was confused. 'How?'

'I couldn't give him children.'

The jeers began to intensify as Hermione cried, struggling against Lord Voldemort who was pulling her towards a cauldron where he was going to drop the baby. Lucius had seen the process before, although at the time he had not properly understood it. It was only after his rise again five years ago that everything was explained to some of his closest followers, including himself. The last Horcrux that Lucius had seen made was Nagini, who'd writhed around and twisted and shrieked in pain. It made his stomach curdle to think about how he was going to now inflict that same pain on a baby. On his daughter no less.

'As you all know.' Lord Voldemort hissed quietly, yet everyone in the room could still hear him. 'In order to make a Horcrux, you need to have killed. I have killed many. But I think that the most fitting person to be used, is this boy right here.' He waved his hand at the cauldron, and up from the mist came the ghostly figure of Ron Weasley. All eyes turned to Hermione, who had suddenly stopped in her struggles. For a moment, Lucius thought that she had fainted in his arms, but it was only a trick to get him to be distracted as she then quickly made a desperate lunge towards Rose. He was too good for that, and laughed as he slapped the young girl around the face.

'I am going to live forever.'

'I wouldn't count on that.'

Harry Potter bellowed from high above in the balcony opposite the Stairs. Hermione looked up at him in tearstained delight, while Lord Voldemort looked up at him in terror.

'I killed you.' He hissed venomously.

'Rose isn't your first human Horcrux.' Harry chuckled back.

From far bellow, Lucius grinned for the first time at Potter's youthful arrogance. And then at himself, how far he had changed!

'Do not speak her name with your filthy tongue.' Lord Voldemort spat as his grip tightened around the baby, almost protectively. 'It is no matter, I can kill you again.'

A shot of green light hit Harry, but he didn't even stumble.

Voldemort's icy pale skin flushed silver, and then he grinned slyly. 'You made yourself a Horcrux, boy?'

Harry grinned back. 'Nope. I'm just immortal here because in this life I'm supposed to be dead.'

Voldemort scowled. The Death Eaters were still in their stunned silence, hardly daring to believe what was going on.

With all the attention fixed back on Harry again, Hermione leaned forwards, ready to take Rose again. But Voldemort felt the baby begin to slip from his arms and turned to smack her across the face, so hard that she fell down the stone steps. Before she could even register what was happening, his hand had found her tangle of hair and was pulling her back.

'I can always kill _her _you know, Harry.'

There was a murmur of whispering throughout the crowd. Lucius saw the flicker of panic in Harry's eyes, and his hand tightened around his wand from inside his pocket.

'You wouldn't do that.' Harry argued, in a far more self-assured tone than he actually felt. 'I know that you have plans for her.'

Voldemort smirked wickedly. 'I can always use my daughter here. It doesn't have to be Miss Mudblood you know.' He laughed as Harry shot a bolt of green light at him. 'Your first killing curse and it doesn't work Mr. Potter. Dear oh dear.'

Harry was fuming with himself. Voldemort now knew that although he couldn't kill Harry, Harry couldn't kill him either. Lucius saw the recognition in his old Master's eyes and raised his wand.

Another shot of green light and he fell to the ground dead.

Narcissa Malfoy shrieked from where she had been hiding, picked up her skirts and ran to her husband with her white hair billowing out behind her with her cloak. Tears spilled freely from her now blue eyes as she held him close to her as Voldemort continued to laugh. He gladly handed Rose to Hermione and walked down to where the Malfoy's lay. With another shot of green light, Narcissa Malfoy also lay dead.

Who would kill him now? Hermione thought to herself as she kept a tight grip on Rose, this time determined not to give her back when Lord Voldemort reached out for her again. The Death Eaters all had their wands out, ready to point them at Harry when their Master gave the word. She did not have a wand. There was no way that Harry could fight them all. And then what would happen? He would die. And she and this poor innocent baby would continue to live a disgusting existence. Would he treat Rose how he had treated Hermione? She just couldn't bear that idea. Looking down into her daughter's beautiful brown eyes, Hermione knew what to do. She at last knew the feeling that was missing, the one earned with making hard decisions.

'Harry!' She called.

Voldemort looked at her too, and started to stride towards her.

'Do it!' She called. 'Do it now!'

Harry was relieved, but startled all the same. 'Hermione, are you sure?'

'Do it. You're brave enough.'

'That's not what I mean.'

'Do it.'

Lord Voldemort stopped and looked between the two teenagers, like he was trying to figure out what was about to happen. A gang of Death Eaters ran towards the stairs that led to where Harry was.

'Harry?'

'Hermione?'

'I finally feel like a Mother now.'

And as more Death Eaters ran for Harry, and Lord Voldemort ran for Hermione and Rose. Harry Potter closed his eyes and fell back, just as Hermione closed her own eyes and kissed her daughter's forehead in goodbye.


	24. Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

The battle was won. And yet Hermione Granger felt no happiness. She felt, different. Empty. Like she was missing something. Even when Ron kissed her in celebration, Hermione still felt like she wanted to burst into tears. Maybe it was relief? But she didn't think that it could be.

When Harry came towards them, he seemed hesitant. Hermione realised that she and Ron were holding hands and figured that was the cause.

'Are you, are you feeling, alright?' Harry questioned cautiously.

'Oi.' Ron laughed, thumping him on the arm. 'Just because she's going out with me, doesn't mean that she's lost a few brain cells all of a sudden.'

Harry smiled, but only faintly.

'It feels like I've lost something.' Hermione frowned. 'But I just-'

'You've lost a friend and gained a partner.' Ron summed it up proudly. 'I feel the same way. Right, Harry?'

'Yeah.' Harry whispered. 'Right.'

It was Fred Weasley's funeral. The Weasley family were all down in the kitchen, but Harry and Hermione had remained upstairs, wanting to let them all have their own moment together before they came along.

Harry was struggling with his tie, and it was with an affectionate tut of irritation that Hermione came along to fix it for him. As he stared into her eyes, he marvelled at why she couldn't see it, and yet he could. Why he was haunted, and she was left bewildered and confused.

'There.' She smiled at him. 'All done.' Hermione turned away from him, and together they looked at one another in the mirror. Gently, Harry looped his arms around her slim waist, and she leaned her head back against his shoulders.

'Harry,' she asked, 'Harry, what's wrong with me?'

'Nothing.'

'Harry. I feel weird. It's like I've been asleep for the longest time, and now I'm so confused. What's wrong with me?'

'Nothing.'

'I know that you know.'

'Nothing.'

The floor of the tent was rough, as it scraped against her cheek, from which tears freely rolled. Hermione Granger lay on her side, at present, the comfiest position that she could actually lie in, in the middle of the small one man tent, (one that Would Not be expanded by magic), with her legs curled up as tight as she could, given her big belly. Beside her, her husband, Ron Weasley, was nursing both a broken arm and a particularly nasty gash on his forehead. On her left hand side, Harry Potter knelt looking at her as she faced him, his mouth was open - numb, with shock.

'Don't just fucking kneel there Harry Potter!' She screamed furiously at him. 'Go and fetch a fucking midwife! Summon one! NOW!'

'Hermione,' said Harry weakly, 'if we go and fetch one , then we blow our cover and let them know where we are.' He then curved out of the way to avoid Hermione's fist, flying straight for his nose.

Behind her, and therefore unseen by his wife, Ron Weasley grinned.

'Well, what do you suggest that we do then, Famous Potter?' She snarled. 'Perfect Potter? What shall we do? OUCH!' Hermione whimpered as she clutched onto her stomach. Harry leaned forward in concern, but Hermione only snapped at him. 'Well, Golden Boy? Got any bright ideas this time?'

Ron sniggered as his baffled best friend, held up his hands in self-defence.

With difficulty, Hermione rolled over onto her other side. 'You.' She growled at her husband. Ron had never seen someone look so like a lioness before. He gulped and although he went pale, the tips of his ears went pink.

'You did this to me.'

'Um.' Ron squirmed. 'It takes two to tango?'

This time, Hermione was close enough to hit her chosen target, and Ron sought to avoid her wrath by letting her punch him first time around.

'You complete arse, Ron Weasley!'

'Now, come on, Hermione.' Ron tried to soothe her, going to place a soft hand on her burning forehead.

'Don't call me, Hermione!' She roared.

Ron looked at his best man, baffled. He shrugged.

'Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. This really, really hurts!' Hermione whimpered, one hand clasped onto her belly, the other, pushing her up onto the mound of pillows hastily constructed by the two boys.

Bearing in mind what had happened the last time that he'd tried to give her advice, Ron swallowed. 'Come on, baby.' He whispered to her gently. 'You can do it. Just breathe.'

'Would you listen to me telling you to breathe when you're trying to pass a giant Quaffle?' Hermione muttered under her breath, but nonetheless, she complied with his request, and although the pain did not go away, she felt a tad more relaxed, especially as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and said softly. 'Harry? Be a dear, and go and fetch a midwife for me? Thank you.'

Harry knew that it was pointless, where Hermione was concerned, to go straight into an outright refusal, and so instead he jumped right into it. 'Ok. Meet your new midwife. Me. It's me.'

Hermione shrieked. 'No! No! You haven't even got the training for starters! Don't be an idiot, Potter. You might play averagely on the Quidditch Field and in your job, but I am Not going to be one more of your fucking experiments!'

'I've delivered before.' He told her smoothly.

'Who's?' Hermione's eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

He chose to avoid those scrutinising brown eyes. 'Um. Loads? Look, Hermione. I'm Famous Potter. I'm Perfect Potter. I can do anything. I'm the Golden Boy.' His green eyes twinkled mischievously, as he smiled slyly.

Hermione scowled, but most of the anger was gone from her eyes. Ron, however, winced.

Harry sighed. 'Ron. I'm happily married to your sister, and your wife is having a baby. I'm not getting off on this.'

'Oh, I know that.' Ron said, clearly embarrassed, but looking pleased all the same.

While Ron's uninjured hand gripped Hermione's, her eyes met the reassuring emerald ones of her best friend.

'Are you two ready to become parents?' He asked, smiling.

Ron nodded enthusiastically, and looked at Hermione to do the same. She, on the other hand, looked terrified. For a moment, the boys were both reminded of Hermione as a schoolgirl, panicking before her exams.

'No.' She whispered. 'I haven't practised. I'm not perfect yet. I need more time.'

Harry breathed a laugh, his smile growing even wider. 'Well, it's too late for that, Hermione. She's on her way.'

The couple looked at him in confusion. 'She?' They said together. 'How do you know that it's a she?'

'Um.' Harry stumbled. 'Lucky guess. The way you're carrying? I don't know, just, just stop talking and push.'

A little over an hour later, there were the sounds of a newborn infant wailing. Ron held his newborn daughter in his arms, tears filling his stunned eyes as he stared at her in wonder. 'What shall we call this little beauty?'

'Rose.' Harry and Hermione said instantly together.

Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise.

'Because, she's um, pretty?' Harry mumbled. 'It's a pretty name, I guess.'

'Why Rose, Hermione?' Ron asked, smiling down at their daughter.

'It has thorns.' Hermione gave a small frown. 'I guess that just appealed to me. She'll be strong that way.'

Ron grinned. 'Rose Eleanor Weasley. I like it.'

When he placed their daughter in his wife's arms, and she felt the weight of her baby, and looked into her familiar features. Hermione Granger finally realised what she had been missing all along.

**Well that's the end of my Story! Ah so sad. I will be continuing to write some more though! Including a sequel to this, in case some of you are questioning as to why they are all in a tent...Other stories include:**

_**Young Harry**_

_**Ginny**_

_**Snape**_

_**Dumbledore**_

_**Sirius Black**_

_**Remus Lupin and Nymphandora Tonks**_

_**Harry's sequel to this**_

_**Aunt Petunia**_

_**Bellatrix Lestrange**_

**Thank you VERY MUCH to those of you who have reviewed - particularly to Potterwatch Machine and her particularly long reviews which were always a Pleasure to read! After this Chapter, I will be having a Question and Answer Chapter, to clear up some loose ends as it were, so please review me some Questions to answer! Although, I already have in mind what some of you will be asking! Thank you for reading xx**


End file.
